The Other End of the Sword: Book One
by SkywardDiamond
Summary: "What exists between us is a living, breathing entity, sky child. Can you see it? Do you feel it? It burgeons, bursting forth like a sapling breaking through soil. It is growing, stretching up tall, expanding. It is alive. And this war you've started - you will not win, my tragic hero." MidnaXLink/ Semi-GhirahimXLink - Ghirahim/Fi's back-story: Chapters 25, 27, 31, 32
1. Part I: A Thread is Tied

**Welcome. Full *revised* summary is below. Warning: Chapter contains S&M-ish content. NOTE: Chapters 1, 2, 3 ,4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 24 and 33 have been rewritten. I am working to revise earlier chapters to improve narrative flow. As always, thank you all for your reviews. ~SkywardDiamond**

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><p>- Part I -<p>

Chapter 1

A Thread is Tied

Awakening from a dream but unable to open his eyes, Link tossed his head. He breathed in. His lungs and throat burned.

He had no idea where he was. In kind with his voice, his memories eluded him.

Confusion of the most unsound sort was beginning to overcome him. For reasons unknown, he felt overrun by _feeling_.

The barriers between pain and pleasure were becoming more and more blurred with each passing second.

At first, the sensations that crept over his skin felt like pins and needles. The feeling that his head was being crushed within a vice nauseated him. He felt as if his body had been torn apart, only to be rebuilt to a state of unrest. He felt dissonant, as if his body needed...something.

But a pleasant feeling gradually began to override his discomfort. Was his body simply rebelling against the pain, or was it something else...?

The pressure against his head started to resemble the gentle lay of a hand more than a constricting grip. His limbs began to tingle. He started to notice the hard floor beneath him.

"Midna…" Link whispered, thinking that the subtle caresses must be her doing. No one else had any reason, nor any _right,_ to make him feel this way. The picture of her beautiful face - her bright auburn eyes, her full red lips, her lustrous ginger hair - flashed in his mind. He would have smiled if it were not for the pain. He tried to open his heavy eyelids.

"Midna, what're you-?" he tried to say as he started to raise his arms from the floor. He found that they wouldn't budge from where they lay, however.

He sought to lift his arms one more time, but failed. Shocked, he opened his eyes. He glance at his surroundings, confused. A high stone ceiling came into view.

He began to piece together an unsettling realization -

He was bound to the floor. Struggling, he pulled against the restraints around his wrists. His breathing sped up. Alarming thoughts raced through his mind.

Then, a blissful shock coursed through him. He jerked and coiled, his mouth dropping in amazement at how wonderful it felt. His jumbled thoughts became even more confused.

Realizing that nothing was holding his feet, he bent his knees and pushed up, fighting his binds. His arms were pulled so tautly, however, that he couldn't move more than a few inches.

Without warning, more pleasurable waves washed over him. Squinting his eyes, he tried to will it away.

He turned his head to the right. What was he seeing? Furniture? Several large, dark shapes were set about the room. He twisted his neck to the left; another stone wall, five feet away. Further down he saw a bright, active fireplace - the only source of light in the dark room.

_Where am I?_

Link turned his gaze to the ceiling. He flexed his fingers in restiveness.

He was tied down and alone - why? - alone, yet his body was reacting as if someone was touching him. Not just touching, but massaging, placing within him a rather gratifying feeling.

Still, he saw and felt nothing near him.

Then, a tingling sensation shot through his limbs. It warmed him, slowly blanketing his whole body.

The feeling wasn't sexual in nature. But, being an erogenous creature, he had to admit that it felt...quite good; perhaps too good.

His eyes tapered and his breathing sped up. This time, though, his reaction was not due to fear alone.

He pulled against his restraints once more. Bending his neck to lift himself, he raised his shoulder blades from the floor. The bottoms of his brown leather boots scraped the ground.

His voice dysphonic, he tried to call out to someone, _anyone,_ in this bewildering place. But speaking was too painful. He needed water, badly. With his throat strained, he gave an agonized cough. He thought about the water stashed in his pouch.

At the same time, he was unable to ignore the strange feeling of excitement that was growing inside of him. It was developing into something disturbing.

Still battling the shackles he tossed and turned in a desperate attempt to escape. His anger was building. He couldn't call for help, or even comfort himself with his own words. He felt helpless. Utterly helpless.

He refused to resign himself to this. He tried countervailing the sensations, disassociating his mind from his physicality. He hunted for refuge deep within his thoughts. But he quickly discovered that he couldn't focus on anything beyond the here and now.

_What's happened…? Where am I…? _His mind was hopelessly fuzzy, yet he was beginning to recall something -

He remembered making his way down a long corridor. And then a void… But there had to be more than that.

As he groped for an answer, he gasped, sensing the soft tickle of fingers against him. He twisted as it intensified. He gnashed his teeth as it turned into an incredibly enjoyable spasm. His heart thumped. He arched his back, breathing hard.

He almost felt as if… He felt as though he might…

His eyes broadened as he found his body tilting further and further toward that state of completion which it craved. How could this be happening? Nothing was touching him.

And who had put him here?

Tears of frustration threatened to erupt. His muteness was maddening. He felt feverish and drained. Worst of all, his strength was so lacking that he found it difficult to resist what his body wanted.

He reprimanded himself in his head.

"What is this?" he forced himself to say. His throat was far too painful to eke out anything more. He looked around, hoping for an answer, even if it came from some sort of crazed…

And then he remembered him - the one from the hallway.

Link started to panic._ Did he bring me here? Is he going to kill me?_

His eyes shut again as he turned his thoughts inward. Memories of what had invaded his mind back in Skyloft were returning. The voice that he had heard in his head and in his dreams…

Somehow he knew what he had been dragged into.

_He's trying to...break me…_

"Zelda…" Link whispered, flinching. Every word was like a knife through his throat.

Had he really been dragged into captivity by a madman? He shut his eyes and concentrated, breathing deeply. _Keep it together, keep it together..._

He felt so lonely, so hopeless. But he couldn't give up. Biting down on his lip, he made a commitment to fight whatever this was, tooth and nail.

Out of nowhere, energy exploded inside of him, catching him unawares. He pulled so hard against the iron that it nearly sliced into his skin. He gritted his teeth and stared straight up. With a growl and a whimper he squirmed, feeling wonderful and terrible at the same time.

Small, rattling moans escaped from him. He started to lose his breath. Pressure was building. The prospect of release taunted him. He wanted to shout obscenities. He wanted answers. What he didn't want was to lose it.

_Maybe I should just -_

"Is the highly revered, superbly equable hero truly about to lose his control?"

Link's eyes popped open at the sound of the smooth, deep voice. He looked around. His heart beat faster. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing. The only noise he could make was a dejected exhale. Turning his face to the right, he spotted a tall figure as it emerged out of nowhere. "I'm rather enjoying your writhing. Don't stop on my account."

Link swallowed, appalled. The figure was not just tall, but unnaturally so. Link stared in horror as the man approached.

Illuminated by the soft glow of the flames, the man stepped into the light. Seconds felt like hours as two feet slowly neared, halting just inches from Link's face.

Two pristine white boots; loose-fitting trousers of a similar hue, detailed with diamonds; a perfect, muscular form covered with pale linen; a thin golden belt, housing a large red diamond on the right side, wrapped neatly around a trim waist; red cascading down.

Terrified, Link didn't move.

Looming over him, the man of enormous stature looked down with dark eyes as huge and black as pits. He wasn't moving. He just stood there, hovering and smiling. Link started to shake.

The pale man began to lower himself onto one knee. Link shied away as much as the chains would allow, unable to take his eyes off of him.

Whatever form of life this man was, Link was certain that he had never seen anything like it before.

Leisurely, as if to observe a rare, skittish animal, the man placed his gloved hands to the floor. He lowered his head.

More afraid than he had ever been, Link found it impossible to look away. The man's pure white hair dangled only inches above, not quite concealing the black diamond beneath his left eye and the periwinkle crystal earring in his right ear. Link heard a soft, malicious chuckle.

"You made it far too easy for me, sky child. You truly did. Finding you incapacitated like that, I didn't even have to lift a finger to subjugate you. It was simply delightful." Link gaped. The man's voice was strangely silky.

"Don't bother trying to mask the fear on your face, sky child," he said, low and grizzly. He placed a hand under his chin. "Not only is it flowing out of you like a river, but it's painted all over your terrified little mug." He leaned down, placing two pale lips against Link's ear. The young man stiffened even more. "And besides that, the scent of it has filled my olfactory senses to _bursting_."

Emphasizing the last word, he grinned. Link turned his head away, not only hearing the punishing words, but feeling them.

"What's the matter, sky child? Do you have an aversion toward words such as _bursting_, _exploding_ and _erupting_?" Link reluctantly looked at the man. His face reddened.

A lock of blond hair fell across his blue eyes. The man brushed it aside, smirking as Link flinched violently.

A startled gasp melted into several sharp breaths. The touch felt electric.

The man's grin stretched further. "Are you wondering what's happening to you, my off-color hero?" Link simply stared and shook. "Is my panache, my unmatched sense of style, my overpowering influence really leaving you so terrorized that your ability to speak has all but disappeared?" The man leaned in so closely that Link saw his petrified reflection staring back.

"Am I really so beautiful that you have no words left?"

Wide-eyed, Link couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Thinking you've gotten yourself into a rather scabby situation? Well, I'd certainly have to agree with that. Right into the frying pan."

Link lay silently. He wondered where the Goddess Sword was, feeling guilty for not heeding Fi's wise advice to take better care of himself in the woods.

"I'm sure you're wondering where I pulled that familiar phrase from," the man said, the devilish grin still on his face. "As much as I relish the idea of leaving you crawling in the dark like a gormless fool, I know that to remain too secretive would hinder my own efforts." Link gaped, trying to understand. "I took it from you, sky child. Whatever a demon wants, a demon _gets_."

Link tightened up.

The man sat on his heels. He leaned forward again. "I'm not going to disclose every one of my secrets to you, however. Not yet. And as I'm sure you've probably deduced by now, I'm also well aware of why you can't speak. It's just as well, because had your voice not escaped you tonight, I more than likely would have cut your tongue out with the sprawling amount that you typically wag your yap. As much as I enjoy a good groveling session, and as much as I am dying to listen to your distressed, euphonious screams, now is not the time." His brow came up. "And I think that you'll find me to be keenly perspicacious and impressively more au fait with your knowledge and experiences than anyone has ever been. Including _yourself._"

So much was being said, but Link was finding it too difficult to listen. The pressure within him was still there, itching to be displaced. He wanted relief. He _needed_ it.

"Do you realize how outright limited your language is in describing pain and suffering? It's regrettable to say the least. The Hylian language has no means whatsoever to give pain, and agony, and screams, and suffering their due glory." Link held back a groan. "Why are screams so wonderful you ask? They are extemporaneous. Oftentimes involuntary. Something that breaks through that barricade of control as external stimuli forces itself onto one's frangible body; such as something that causes _agonizing pain_."

The demon sat up taller, lifting his arms. "Screams of joy - uninteresting. Screams of pleasure, while a bit fascinating in their own right, are not my favorite. Screams of fear, however," he said with excitement growing in his voice, "those tickle me. But screams of pain..." He chortled, rubbing his hands together. "There is simply nothing more melodious to my ears." He cocked his head.

Link was sure that this must have been the worst monologue in the history of the world.

"Well, how rude of me. Amidst all of this excitement I seem to have forgotten my manners. I haven't introduced myself yet. How deplorable of me." Link's ears perked as he listened. He was eager for information from him, even if it was nothing more than a measly name. The demon lowered once more, lessening the already tight interstice between their faces.

"You may call me…" he began. Link's eyes filled with a mixture of dread and anticipation. "…Your tormentor. Your god. The paladin of this realm who will bring your soul to perdition. The one who has already won this battle long before you foolishly came down to the surface. The one who, whether you like it or not, will teach you what it means to be a real man." He inched closer. "I will leave you so gobsmacked, so gutted, so completely and utterly ashamed of your very person and everything that you've ever done in your pitifully incomplete life, that _if_ you walk away from here, your pathetic compilation of pride will not be following you."

Blenching at the demon's every word as if they were as sharp as shivs, Link's stomach dropped.

The man rose to his feet. "You will experience deference like you never have before. You will respectfully submit and yield to your arbiter _on your knees _as you beg penitently for your life." He crouched down. "But, when you're not calling me _Master_, you may call me Lord Ghirahim."

Link blinked a few times as he heard the name. "Demon Lord Ghirahim is my full title. A select few of my companions simply call me Ghirahim." As he leaned in, Link turned away. The demon grabbed his green knight's cap, gripping the hair beneath and forcing his eyes back. Link grasped at the air for something that could help him, but found nothing.

"But you are _not_ my friend, at least not yet," Ghirahim purred into Link's mouth.

The demon's touch, rough and excruciating, felt good somehow. The human grimaced. Ghirahim laughed, dropping Link's head to the floor with a thunk.

"Seeing as though it's a special day for you today, tragic hero, I'll bestow a small gift of knowledge on to you." Rolling his head and breathing unevenly, Link met eyes with the demon. "Youare destroying _yourself_ right now."

With growing enmity, Link listened.

"Oh, it's true that I…dabble in thaumaturgy, if you will. In fact, I am quite portentous in the world of magical arts. It's no secret that I possess enough power to bring you to a mortifying level of capitulation with a mere snap of my fingers. This is precisely why you can't possibly hope to defeat me. But, it's also true that I've used very limited power since your rather fortunate arrival. In other words, I got the ball rolling for you, but as soon as your own twisted little mind caught on, there was no longer any need for my coaxing. Your suffering at this moment is all your own doing. Did you even know that you can channel such sensation from within yourself? Your mind is responsible, not me. I've merely awoken your inner masochistic desires from their hiding place. You and I are not so different, sky child."

Confused and uncomfortable, Link shook his head. Was the demon implying that he was enjoying this? That he wanted it somehow?

"That's not true," Link whispered.

Ghirahim gave him a look of intrigue. "Are you calling me a liar, sky child?" he asked with an eerie calmness. In too much pain to speak, Link nodded.

Ghirahim chuckled. "Like I already mentioned, I think you'll find my knowledge to be surprisingly accurate. But before we begin that rather delectable game, I suppose I should save you from yourself." He held his hands behind his back, waiting, watching.

Wanting relief, Link dragged his heels along the floor, barely able to stand it. His anger was beginning to exceed his physical need.

_Just make it stop... _Link begged in his head. He fixed his glower on the demon, breathing heavily and getting warmer. He was slipping, but he refused to let it show.

Ghirahim's knowing smile said it all. The demon lifted a hand and snapped his fingers, staring pertly down.

Immediately, Link felt something rush from his body. His pained back sank to the floor as the tension gradually left him. He just breathed for a moment.

"I need my listener unspoiled," Ghirahim told him. Link looked up, trying not to appear as furious as he felt.

"So, why thrust a challenge such as this upon you? Why, for my enjoyment, of course," Ghirahim explained, pouting his lip. "There's something that you really ought to accept as fact so that we can both move on, hero." He bent down. "...I relish your suffering." He shrugged lightly. "I also restrained you to remove the possibility of you chipping one of my nails as I spoke to you. That would've been right irritating of you, boy." He took a seat on the floor. "You _will_ hear what I have to say. Every word." He lowered a finger to the shackle around Link's right wrist, caressing it gently. Link grunted and pulled away.

"Relax, sky child. I'm not going to hurt you. Not yet."

"Why are you doing this?" Link managed to ask, his voice blinking in and out.

"Why haven't I killed you, you mean?" Ghirahim corrected.

"Yes," Link rasped as he stared in the opposite direction.

"Look at me when you're _speaking_ to me, sky child," Ghirahim ordered. Link remained still.

"I said look at me!" Ghirahim hollered. Link jumped. His pulse racing, he pressed his ear stubbornly to the floor.

"The world has little use for a blind hero," Ghirahim threatened. "Must I gouge your eyes out for your impertinence? Do you realize who you're in the presence of, you foolish child?"

"I'm not a child," Link grumbled dryly, trying his hardest not to cough.

"Your upholding of respect for me while you are in my presence is incontrovertible, stroppy child."

"I'm not a child," Link said a bit louder, turning his head. He watched as a grin appeared on the demon's face. Link sighed, realizing he had unintentionally obeyed. His hands clenched.

"Jolly good," Ghirahim said, resting his face in his hand once more. Link huffed, growing tired of the game. Was it ever going to end?

"You're still alive because you have something that I want, my dear hero." The demon's voice was honeyed.

"What?" Link asked.

Ghirahim simply grinned. "All in due time, child. Don't they teach you that patience is a virtue back at your quaint little knight academy in the sky?"

"Where's my sword?" Link asked.

"Again - patience."

"And where is Zelda?" Link asked. He glared.

"Such audacity," Ghirahim said, biting his lip. "She's dead."

The light in Link's eyes fizzled for a moment. "You're lying."

"Am I? Am I!" His voice climbed as he lifted a hand over Link's face. Link cringed and turned away, waiting for the inevitable.

With his eyes shut he heard the demon's soft laugh. Link slowly opened his eyes and looked at him.

"Next time, I really will," Ghirahim said with certainty.

Wary, Link loosened. "...Where am I?"

"Well, you're not in the temple," the demon said. "You're not in the forest at all, for that matter." Link's face went blank. "Like I said, all in due time, sky child."

"Look," Link said, gaining the demon's attention. "I didn't come here to visit _you_. I came for-"

"The spirit maiden. Yes, yes, yes, I am aware. Haven't we all?"

"She's alive then?" Link asked.

Ghirahim looked down. "You, hero, are exuding far too much confidence for someone in your position." His eyes roamed from one part of Link's body to another. "First, we have the conversation that I've been just dying to have with you. So many wonderful things to discuss with you. Then, I offer you a deal. Finally, we go head-to-head in battle."

"What?" Link asked again, his voice still hushed.

"But you're much too unkempt for my liking," Ghirahim said solemnly, shaking his head. "We _really_ must do something about this." Link looked at him curiously. "You need a shave, sky child. All those days out in the woods must have given you a mountain man mentality. Forest life has not been kind to you."

Link wasn't quite sure what to say. "I just shaved two days ago."

Without warning, Ghirahim grabbed a handful of green tunic and rolled Link onto his side. He gave a small cry. A thieving hand pushed its way into the larger of the two bags on his belt.

"Wha-" Link started to say before he was released with a rough jerk.

Proudly, the demon lifted Link's water jar into the air. "Just what I was looking for," he said with a satisfied smile. He unscrewed the lid.

"What're y-" But before Link could finish, a splash of frigid water crashed into his face, wetting his shirt and tunic. Sputtering from the shock, he coughed and wrestled with the chains. Ghirahim laughed. Still struggling, Link felt the hand plunge into his pants pocket.

"What are you doing!" Link rattled.

"Just looking for something," Ghirahim sang.

"You're looking for something, all right…"

"Voila! And here it is," Ghirahim said happily, holding up Link's razor.

Dripping wet and horrified, Link stared. He groaned angrily as the demon claimed a tuft of his hair.

"I suggest you hold still," Ghirahim warned.

Link's eyes shot open at the sight of the sharp object. In an instant, the blade was brought to his neck. With butterflies in his stomach, he held his breath.

This was by far the most uncomfortable shave he had ever received.

"It is almost farcical how easy it is to break you down, sky child," Ghirahim said as he ran the edge upward. Link winced. "And it's such fun to do it."

"You're not breaking me down," Link said.

"As much as I take pleasure in the idea of forcing you to enjoy my touch, I am very much looking forward to the day when you welcome it."

Link looked around for a moment. "What? I would never welcome your touch…"

"That's what they all say," Ghirahim said as he circled around to shave the other side. "Something special happens when a demon's hand meets human flesh. You've felt it by now."

_I can't believe this,_ Link thought.

"Now we're ready to begin," Ghirahim said, putting the finishing touches on his subject's face. "I couldn't possibly have a civilized conversation with someone _that_ untidy - oops!"

At that moment, fire spread across Link's face as the razor cut into him.

Link cried out, making his parched throat tighten even more. Warm blood streaked down his cheek. It dribbled down his ear, forming a small pool on the stone beneath his head. He gaped, completely aghast.

Ghirahim dropped to his level, licked his lips and ran his long tongue along the bottom of Link's face. The human trembled.

With a deep red staining his mouth, Ghirahim smiled at Link's repulsion.

Savoring the last of the sweet, metallic liquid on his mouth, he sang, "Happy birthday, sky child."

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><p><strong>If you're looking for a more adult Legend of Zelda story with a multifaceted plot, then this may be the story for you.<strong>

**Please bear in mind that this story is for mature teens to adults due to adult situations/sexuality/shounen-ai and yuri aspects/violence/mild language/dark themes/incidents of physical and mental torture/angst.**

**ALL sensuality is carefully worded to avoid crossing into MA territory.**

**Thanks for reading. Please review, because as I always say, your thoughts as a reader mean everything. I would love to see your thoughts on earlier chapters, as well. If you can stand the idea of waiting to hit that *next* button to share a comment or two with me, please do so ~_^  
><strong>

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><p><strong>::SUMMARY::<br>**

**This story is an epic-style expansion on Skyward Sword - it expands the world, the characters and the plot. It incorporates (in some form) most elements of the game. Third-person points-of-view used: Link, with some first-person in dream sequences, Fi, Ghirahim, Pipit, Midna, Zelda, and maybe more.**

**The true war is fought on the battlefield of the mind...**

**And when that battle is finished, will Link have the will to defeat the one who beckons him, who tempts him, who kindles his desire, who he is connected to by an unbreakable thread of fate?  
><strong>

****What will become of Link in his fight against a demon with the power to enslave not only his body, but his mind?****

**This story begins after Link's first meeting with Ghirahim in the Skyview Temple. But, the hero soon finds that he has been pulled into the realm of demons by none other than the demon lord himself, and his intentions are far from ingenuous.  
><strong>

**Just as the restrengthening imprisoned form of the demon king needs the soul of the spirit maiden to be revived, Ghirahim needs something from the hero in order to claim his victory. And he is willing to do anything to get it.  
><strong>

**At the same time, Link owes his enemy something, but he has yet to discover what it is. One way or another, Ghirahim will claim what is rightfully his...**

**In the demon realm, on the surface and in the sky, Link will have to complete - as well as ****go beyond - the quests in Skyward Sword to reach and rescue the ones with the power to forge a weapon strong enough to defeat the lords of the surface, before they are able to launch an attack as brutal as the one that occurred during the era of the Goddess. If Demise's army wages war against those of the sky states, the surface tribes and the demon realm's resistance, who will prevail?**

**Expect to see various Zelda universe characters.**

**As with the Prequel, plenty of humor, and some romance. This fic encompasses a bit of almost every genre.**

**"Semi-GhirahimXLink" defined: What I like to call "straight-guy-slash". May seem self-contradictory, but it isn't. While there is some GhiraLink in this fic (as well as MidLink), it leans more towards dub-con (though not all). I consider both Link and Ghirahim to be straight in this story. So how can two straight guys be paired? I guess you will have to read and decide for yourself :)**

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><p><strong>The Prequel to this story is being rewritten. Therefore, it's not *fully* available to reference back to at the moment, sorry! But soon! Go check out the updated chapters, if you wish. My profile contains some notes from the prequel which will help to fill in the gaps for those who haven't read the prequel. You certainly don't need to read the Prequel to enjoy this story.<br>**

**A zillion-and-one thank-you's and even more chocolate chip cookies to *hairyhen* for being invaluable in terms of **being my sounding board, **offering some ideas for this fic, and for helping me to avoid stupid mistakes. Even though he is less than smitten with all things GhiraLink, he lends his brainpower anyway. ILOVEYOUTHANKYOU!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Legend of Zelda series.**


	2. Tragic Flaws

Chapter 2

Tragic Flaws

The worst birthday ever: to have one's fortune decided by a scapegrace with the most dubious of dispositions. Link's tired eyes followed the demon as he peered thoughtfully at his own feet by the fireside.

The untamed woods had been a challenge. The Skyview Temple, in all of its incongruity, had been frightening. The discovery of a demon lord who had assigned himself the role of stripping him of every ounce of dignity that he had was quite a shock. Amid the chaos, Link had completely forgotten a significant milestone in his life - his twenty-first birthday. Sorrow and regret crept in; he may never have the chance to be pounded on the back and congratulated by Pipit for the ability to legally partake of a stiff drink, or to happily gamble away every one of his hard-earned rupees if he so chose.

Images and memories of his best friends flowed as he stared at the granite ceiling. How right they had been five days ago.

Link's patience was wearing thin. He longed to know where he was, how long he was going to be held here, if he was going to make it out alive, and most importantly, where Zelda was, who she was with, and if she was all right.

There was something wrong about this place that Link couldn't seem to pinpoint. Apart from the penetrating cold, the air and the light - the very essence of this place - sent a shiver up his spine.

The heavy sound of his own breathing had been replaced by an almost unnoticeable hum - dissonance and disharmony; a constant, never ending pother of commotion. A disturbance of some sort. Link couldn't tell where the racket was coming from. It rang in his ears with the quiet subtlety of a distraught whisper. He was sure that his imagination couldn't be responsible.

Questioning it, he promised himself that he would get out of this accursed mess…

His captor paced the floor by the fireplace. Link squeezed his hands shut, trying to ignore the sting in his face.

This man was bloodthirsty; literally and figuratively.

"Today is a special day for you, sky child," Ghirahim said, his voice sleek. "In fact, you could call it a day of reckoning." He held his arms behind his back and took a step, much like Instructor Owlan would in preparation to reprove him. At least when dealing with a dissatisfied instructor, Link could rest in the fact that he wouldn't be beaten or murdered during the conversation.

"Have I mentioned to you my undying love for the theatrical arts?" Ghirahim asked with a cheerful ring. Link studied the demon as if he was a remlit about to pounce. "It never ceases to amaze me how an imitation of life can so precisely and accurately depict life's truths with such undeniable exactness. Have you noticed this? Or are you as uncultured and ignorant as I am led to believe? I'm afraid that after probing your mind, I might have overlooked a few minor details." Invoking his right to remain silent, Link chose to say nothing.

"Come now, sky child, I know you have more worldly smarts in that head of yours than you're leading on. Let's not forget, after all..." He crouched down. "I've already seen inside of you. I know just about everything there is to know about you."

_...What?_

"Today is special not because you are twenty-one insignificant years old, nor is it due to the meager privileges that you now have in your diminutive home world. No, today is singular and exceptional because of the decision that is about to come before you." The demon grinned widely. "You don't believe me, do you?" Link's eyes narrowed. He shook his head. "Well, it will make your repudiations all the more satisfying. You will eventually come to know just how wrong you are about your ideologies, hero. And when you do, you are in for a shock so _rude_ that you just might want to turn your back on everything that you hold dear. Even if it doesn't happen today." Ghirahim gave a lazy sigh. "Of course, that's under the premise that you actually leave here alive."

"But you said..." Link began. The dryness in his throat sent him into a fit of painful coughs. He took a shaky breath and forced his words out. "…That I'm alive because I have something that you want."

Ghirahim nodded. "Yes, but, my keeping you alive because I desire something from you is entirely separate from whether or not you will leave here on your feet. Your own decisions are what will decide whether fortune smiles down on you, or if you will be fated to die. Keep that in mind, sky child."

"Why do you call me a child?" Link asked.

"Anyone who has lived less than a millennium is a child to me," Ghirahim stated, a proud surety dressing his every word.

"And is this how you treat children?" Link asked.

"Only a recalcitrant child who possesses something I am keen on; and I am highly efficacious at achieving my desired result."

"And what is this…thing that you want…?" Link asked as he fidgeted. He looked away, considering the possibility that he may never see Zelda again. Perhaps he would never fulfill the duties that the Goddess had assigned him.

"What is it that you take me for, sky child?" Ghirahim asked. "An impulsive, dissolute fool with no self-control? Someone who can be bought off by a fleeting, pleasure-filled moment?" He looked Link straight in the eye. "If that was all I wanted, I would've had it by now, and you wouldn't be here to insult me." His hand came forward to take hold of the human's neck. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no." Link held his breath. "The gift that you will bestow upon me goes far beyond what can be offered by your physical body. What you will provide me with will seal the fate of this realm, as well as your own."

"What is _this realm_?" Link asked.

Ghirahim just smiled. "Soon, sky child, soon," he soothed. "But first…" He leaned over and took Link's wrists. "I think it's time for you to get up."

In one quick movement, Ghirahim tore Link's hands from their restraints. Bits of metal clinked against the stone floor.

As Link cried out in pain, the demon laughed. He swung the human to his feet, holding his arms above his head. Dizzy and fatigued, Link's knees gave out.

Ghirahim laughed harder. "Do I make you weak in the knees, hero?" He brought their faces together. With their noses nearly touching, Link stared with disdain.

"Should I have let you crash to the floor, allowing every bone in your fragile body to break?"

With sudden fierceness, Link pulled away.

The demon lurched forward. "My, my. Such impudence. Shameful. I suppose expecting you to stand still while I speak to you is merely a pipe dream. Very well, then." With a powerful push, Ghirahim drove Link back, shoving him against the wall.

"You're as light as a feather, sky child, don't you eat?" Ghirahim asked with a snicker, staring down. Link's five-foot-nine stature was quite modest next to a demon who was over six-and-a-half feet tall. He felt like he was standing at the foot of a mountain. "Oh, that's right. You've been wandering the woods aimlessly for days, on a wild good chase."

Link swallowed. Pipit had spoken those words just days earlier.

"So, tell me, sky child, how much have you come to loathe the one who sent you into the wilderness to die?" The demon waved an arm. "To slowly succumb to the bite of starvation? Assuming, of course, that your own body wouldn't have first destroyed itself from the inside out with that fever."

"I could never hate her," Link said, chilled.

"Are you really so gullible, sky child? So ingenuous? So downright naïve as to believe everything said by that little witch of yours? Look at you. You've been reduced to a sickly, pitiable wretch."

"My witch?" Link asked.

"Yes, sky child. The one sent by the Goddess to 'aid' you. The one who is much, much more than what she seems…"

Link's eyes broadened. "Fi? She's not a witch…"

"That's simply what they've led you to believe, my hero. I, for one, know better."

Link shook his head. "I don't believe you."

"Of course you don't. I wouldn't expect you to. As I already asked, what do you take me for?"

"I take you for a lot," Link said, trying to suppress his shakiness. "You're a..." He took a moment to think. What was the right word? "A...charlatan." He looked at the floor.

Before he knew it a hand slapped him across the face.

"Don't speak to me like that," Ghirahim said flatly. "You may be a foreigner here, but your disrespect toward those in authority will not be tolerated." With a gaping mouth, Link just stood there for several seconds, blushing. The gleam in the demon's eye made him feel even colder.

"If y-you're..." Link said quietly, "not what I think you are, then what was it that I woke up to earlier? It didn't make any sense how-"

"You almost found yourself in a _sticky_ situation for seemingly no reason?" Ghirahim interrupted. Still hurting, Link looked away. "Truthfully, I would've loved to see your little struggle come to a head so to speak, but alas, you are stubborn, boy." Link looked around uneasily, regretting that he'd brought it up. "But, that would've simply been icing on my cake." He lowered his head with a lustful look. "Because that certainly wasn't my main goal."

"Then what was…?" Link asked, trying not to sound as perturbed as he felt.

"Must I really tell you everything? I am fairly convinced that if you were to think a little bit -" he said, touching the side of Link's head, "- you would figure it out." Seeing nothing but a confused face before him, the demon crossed his arms. "Or maybe not. Blimey, sky child, are you truly so dense? The Goddess's chosen hero can't possibly be this daft." Link shrugged. "You have the relevant knowledge, child. Twelfth-grade mythology. That's all I'm telling you." Looking up at him, Link felt rather nescient. "Have you ever heard the phrase, 'Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them'?" Link nodded. "Well, you, child, are none of the above." Rubbing his red face, Link gave a shallow sigh.

"Moving on," Ghirahim said. "How does it feel to harbor so many secrets from the people who you are closest to?"

"What secrets?" Link asked. "Why would you care if I have secrets?"

Ghirahim held a composed hand up. "Once again, I have my reasons. Has the fact that I know more about you than you know about yourself slipped from your ninnyhammer brain?"

Link stood silently.

"Guilt," Ghirahim said.

"What?" Link asked.

"Guilt, sky child. Guilt."

"What about it?"

"It's your vice," Ghirahim said with a swagger. "If there is one single thing that I am able to gather from the jumbled mess of thoughts that is your mind, I can say for certain that guilt is your biggest fundamental flaw. Your foible. Your inner-beast. Your weakness. Your deepest shortcoming." Link gaped for a moment. "Regret and shame are runners up, but those are caused by the ever-present battle with your conscience.

"Did you know that your own sacred texts describe guilt as immoral conduct? Disgraceful, depraved, corrupt, sinful?" The demon grinned widely. "Well, of course you do. The scriptures make these claims for good reason. Look how low your guilt has managed to drag you down this day."

_You're really one to talk about disgraceful, immoral conduct,_ Link thought.

"It brings you down, hero," Ghirahim said loudly, his words bouncing off the walls. "It makes you weak. Saps your strength. Leeches you for all you've got as you carry the burden on your shoulders. It increases exponentially, as well. The more you've got, the heavier and more unbearable it becomes." Link pressed his back to the wall. "Do you know why you're here today, sky child? Because every tragic hero has a tragic flaw! And yours has rendered you a pitiful weakling! A trumpery. A waste. A useless bit of flotsam!"

"I'd say this conversation is useless..." Link muttered. Ghirahim grabbed his shoulders and forced him to the wall again.

"Shut up and listen," Ghirahim demanded. Link huffed, trying to catch his breath. "I'm speaking the truth now. Your little witch had no shortage of words in her verbose speech regarding your mission when you stood in the Goddess Statue not six days ago. But there was something that she conveniently omitted from her sanctified little pep talk." Link's eyes, tewed by stress watched the demon carefully. "Now it's your turn to speak, sky child. What did your witch claim was the reason for the Goddess's choice in a hero? Did it have anything to do with the unparalleled strength that is the be-all-end-all which results in victory?"

"No," Link said.

"Then what was it, then?" Ghirahim tilted his head, grinning astutely.

"An unbreakable spirit," Link mumbled.

"A what?" Ghirahim teased, placing a pale hand to his ear.

"An unbreakable spirit," Link repeated.

Ghirahim smiled, his eyes sparkling. "Yes, bravo!" He gave some light applause. "Exactly. But what is wrong with this picture?" The demon was nearly twirling around with enthusiasm now. Link watched him, incredulous.

The demon dropped his hands. "Sky child, listen, and listen good." He slid up to Link once more, invading his sorely missed personal space. "Those words that your witch shared with you on behalf of your Goddess might have sounded as sweet as honey, but let me tell you something right now: you do _not_ have what it takes to succeed at that which has been set aside for you. You will never survive the hardships that you will be forced to face by that truculent tyrant. Spirit is not enough, sky child.

"And even with the knowledge that I am graciously giving you now, you will still be too weak to man up." Ghirahim placed his hand on Link's shoulder and stared him straight in the eye. Link tensed and jumped as the demon lowered his mouth and placed it on his ear. "But _I_ can help you leave that flaw behind," Ghirahim whispered, his fingers curling into the emerald wool of Link's tunic.

"You're...crazy," Link said. Ghirahim merely smiled at him.

"Am I, my wayworn hero?" He shook his head disapprovingly. "That's not a very venerating remark. I do believe I would've killed you a long time ago for your discourteous words had I not decided to keep you alive."

"I don't believe what you're saying about my so-called guilt complex," Link said.

"Still not understanding the truth, I see. Guilt saps your confidence, drains you of your physical strength and health, distracts you from your objectives, and weakens you overall. It's the truth, sky child. Don't deny it. You've been wrestling with debilitating remorse and regret ever since your ignorant feet touched down upon the surface for the first time, right before you stuffed that pretty white sail cloth into your bag." Ghirahim grabbed for Link's pouches.

"No!" Link protested, panic-stricken as he saw Zelda's beautiful white sailcloth taken from him. He grabbed for it, but Ghirahim held it out of his reach. Link's heart dropped.

"The spirit maiden's essence is all over this," Ghirahim said lasciviously, smelling the fabric. "Delicious."

"It's all I have," Link said, trying not to sound desperate. In truth, he was a little bit.

Ghirahim gave him an unsympathetic glance. "You'll get it back. Eventually." He balled the cloth in his hands. Link watched helplessly.

"You chose the wrong girl," Ghirahim touted with a grin.

"I what?" Link asked, wringing his hands. Part of him felt like crying.

"Oh, you know what I'm talking about. It's one of your infamous 'issues', is it not? Apparently you've had it on your mind the entire time you've been traipsing around the woods, looking for the girl who you should have picked."

Link shook his head. "What does this have to do with anything…?" he mumbled.

"I'm merely pointing out one of your mistakes," Ghirahim stated. "You _should_ feel guilty. If you had chosen her instead of the other little vamp, this entire situation would have turned out quite differently. Maybe she wouldn't be in trouble right now."

Link's jaw dropped in amazement. "How could you possibly know that?"

"It would be fair to say that I am graced with clairvoyance," Ghirahim stated. "Extrasensory perception. Power to perceive things beyond _your_ range of sense."

"That doesn't mean you know what would have happened," Link replied.

"Don't attempt to assume what powers I have or do not have, because you will fail miserably. I am the only one with true understanding, here."

Tension hung in the frigid air.

"I also know something about your girlfriend that might interest you." The demon stroked his chin. Link ears perked up. "Like I already told you, sky child, she's a vamp. A beguiling temptress. A sinister, alluring femme fatale who has led you in the wrong direction."

Link stared at him as he spoke, his blue eyes wide open. "But-"

"And you know this," Ghirahim claimed, cutting Link's thought short. "Yet another topic that has been wearing on you.

"But she-"

"Later," Ghirahim said, giving Link a look so stern and final that he shut his mouth.

"It's not only your guilt, hero," Ghirahim said, earning another dejected sigh from his listener. "It's your overconfidence." Link's gaze wandered up from the floor; his expression softened. "You were warned by everyone that you spoke to before leaving about the dangers of overconfidence, were you not? Yet, here you are! How predictable."

"How can a person be overrun by guilt _and_ overconfidence?" Link asked.

"Oh, it's quite simple, really," the demon said, "and you are a perfect example of it. Guilt saps confidence. Ergo, your subconscious overcompensates, resulting in overconfidence. And there you have it. Doesn't it feel good to own up to your flaws?"

Link didn't know what else to do but stare.

Ghirahim placed his hands on the wall around Link's head.

"Oh, how wrongfully the Goddess chose. How shortsighted she was as she formed you in your mother's womb." A chuckle rumbled in his throat. "You, a worthless nobody, a deserted orphan whom no one had even the slightest bit of pity for. Who no one would ever, ever loved enough to adopt."

Link felt a stab of anger and shame. His head drooped.

"A valueless goat-herder. A despised human being with an intolerable stutter who failed repeatedly to find his place. So he 'did the right thing', becoming a knight with his only known friend - besides little miss spirit maiden of course." Link looked at his feet. "You lied to your girlfriend when she asked you why you made the choice to pursue knighthood. It wasn't because of a deep-seated desire to protect those in need. You were simply a coward looking for a way to be something."

Link felt his face beginning to burn again.

"A delusional nyctophobic until the age of eleven. A selfish failure of a friend who misplaced his passions onto another - more attractive - woman. A supposed man of honor who yearned for revenge against the spirit maiden, dreaming of making her pay." Ghirahim leaned further down, talking into Link's ear. "A hero full of regret for not listening to his guide's advice; for failing to heed the concerns of his friends; for feeling utterly unworthy of the title of 'the Goddess's chosen one'; for committing transgressions against his friends in recent days; for failing to live up to the title of _knight_, over, and over, and over again; for living a potentially harmonious life in a hideous, scratching, bitterly unpleasant nonchord tone…"

Link eyes started to water.

"A man unwilling to admit that his love for his best mate has gone beyond that of friendship, and has turned into a 'love that dare not speak its name'."

Aghast, Link shoved the demon away. "Now I know you're a liar."

Ghirahim reached forward and grabbed the top of Link's tunic. "Why so offended, sky child? Such a red face you have." He dragged a fingertip down the human's cheek. Furious, Link pulled back and swung at the demon's head, sending him reeling to the side. With annoyance in his eyes, Ghirahim snatched him up.

"Fine, sky child," the demon growled. "It's obvious that prostrate on the floor is the only position you're worthy of." Like flinging a doll, he tossed Link into the air. With arms flailing, Link crashed to the floor, landing on his side and rolling. A malicious giggle filled his ears as he squeezed his eyes shut, groaning and aching.

His face pressed against the cold stone. It almost felt nice. He laid there for a moment, bewildered and shocked.

After his vision faded in and out, he saw a doorway. Focusing, he noticed that it appeared to lead to a corridor. His mind instantly went to work. He could run away.

_But what's beyond these walls..._

Battling his indecision, he turned his head to study the room's perimeter. He could still hear the demon laughing.

Something by the hearth in the corner of the room caught his eye. It was shining, aglow from the orange light in the fireplace. It leaned against the wall, tall and proud.

_The Goddess Sword…_

Shifting his gaze from the weapon to the demon, Link grinded his teeth. Ignoring the pain that racked his body, he rolled forward and sprang to his feet. In an instant the hilt of the sword was in his hands.

Link jumped back, sidestepping to the door and eyeing his enemy. Ghirahim just watched.

Link kept the demon on point with the blade as he shuffled. Ghirahim looked at him, derisive. With a twisting, scornful grin, he shrugged in the young man's direction.

Giving the demon one last glance, Link bolted out the door with the speed of one escaping the grip of death.

_"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here…" _Link heard in his head.

Gasping, he flew down the hall, not knowing where he was going. He sheathed the Goddess Sword. His frightened eyes shot from the floor, to the walls, to the roof as he ran through the stony darkness. His footsteps echoed down a windowless hallway. Surprised shouts fell behind him as he sprinted.

"Fi!" Link called over his shoulder, checking to see if he was being pursued.

"Yes, Master," Fi answered with her usual, musical tone.

"Where am I?" Link called desperately. "What is this place? Fi, help me out here!"

"My knowledge within this location is limited, Master. This is due to my unfamiliarity with this realm."

"This _realm_? What does _this realm_ mean!" Link asked, panting.

"The demon realm, Master," Fi said. Link almost tripped over his feet.

"What?" he cried, approaching a staircase. "How did I get here? Who is Ghirahim? And how do I get outta here?"

"My analysis indicates that you are close to hyperventilating, Master. The danger associated with this state is exacerbated by your fever and overall exhaustion."

"What do you want me to do!" Link asked, his voice raspy and shaky. "I can't rest!"

"My analyses to determine whether you can successfully escape this realm on your own are inconclusive, Master," Fi indicated. Link looked ahead in horror.

"What are you saying? I need someone's help to get back to the forest?"

"There is a ninety-five percent chance that you do, Master." Link scoffed, dashing down the first steps of a long, twisting staircase.

"Are you implying I should've stayed with _him_?" he asked.

"I am unable to confirm the answer at this time, Master."

Link rolled his eyes. But his racing thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sight of two rather large creatures - bokoblins. He skidded to a stop, immediately freeing his weapon with a metallic ring.

Link couldn't believe what he was seeing. These bokoblins were nothing like their forest-dwelling cousins. They were tall and muscular. They were _huge_.

Looking them over with flaring eyes, Link saw that the creatures wore no armor. He tried to formulate a plan.

Link quickly found two warped daggers flying by his face. As the beasts dashed for him with startling agility, he swung his sword, slicing them both across their thick necks. With low, ragged cries they grabbed for their bloody wounds.

As their feet faltered, Link leaped past them, nearly stumbling down the stairs. Holding his arms out to regain his balance, he landed unevenly, narrowly missing the balustrade along the wall. Coiling up, he forward-rolled over his shoulder, clutching his sword's hilt. He jumped to his feet. Staring straight ahead he set off at a run.

With his heart practically beating out of his chest, he rounded the final bend. He approached a doorway. Unsure, he slowed.

His eyes grew at the sight in front of him.

A colossal gallery opened up before him. Five-hundred feet above was a rounded barrel vault roof, covered with intricate oil paintings. Huge dormers let in streams of marigold light. Rows of columns, topped by elaborate capitals, stretched from the floor to the ceiling.

Link suddenly felt very, very small.

Murmuring to himself in amazement, Link went to take a step. He stopped short as soon as he noticed several figures scurrying about on the opposite side of the gallery. He slid back into the stairwell.

"Fi, where's the nearest exit?" Link asked.

"The closest exit is located in the northwestern corner of the room," Fi stated.

Link set his gaze toward his way out. "How am I gonna do this?"

"You have a fifty-percent chance of reaching the exit unseen," Fi said. "The movement of the occupants in this room is random and sporadic."

"Not very good odds," Link mumbled.

"Moving from pillar to pillar will provide you with the most inconspicuous route."

"That's what I was thinking," Link said. He rubbed his clammy forehead. "I'm really not feeling well, Fi." He shut his eyes and sighed.

"You are still feverish, Master."

With a heavy breath, Link tiptoed to the nearest column, keeping his blade low. "As much as I wanna lay down and go to sleep, we have to keep moving. We certainly can't go back." Pressing his back to smooth limestone, he peeked at the activity across the room.

Figures of all sizes were moving about. They rushed around as if they had important business to attend to. Link spotted bokoblins of different hues- red, brown, blue. Each accompanied a taller, more slender figure.

"Are the tall ones demons?" Link asked, looking at all of the white hair and pale skin.

"Yes, Master. Most of them appear to have bokoblin-servants."

"Servants? How can a bokoblin serve _anyone_?"

"They appear to be tame," Fi said.

"This place is weird," Link said, scooting to the next pillar. He studied the bulky creatures with narrow eyes. "If they see me, they're gonna be on me as fast as those two we met in the stairwell."

"It is best not to linger," Fi advised.

"Yeah..." Link said as he hopped to the next column. "Only fifteen more to go."

With several pillars cleared, Link leaned back and breathed. "I'm so beat. And this gash on my face is throbbing." He held his cut as he walked. "I can't wait to get out of this -"

Link halted. Against the wall to his left was something that he had failed to notice - a brown-haired girl. Short and thin, she seemed young. She was staring at him with a look of horror on her face. Link took on a similar expression.

The girl pointed to him, her mouth open as if to scream. Link frantically shook his head and waved his hands. He brought a finger to his lips, beseeching with his eyes.

"Mommy! Mommy!" the girl shouted. "A stranger!"

Link felt the blood rush from his face. He looked to the crowded side of the room. Passersby began to slow and look in his direction.

Some had spotted him. He looked around at the shocked faces, feeling like a mouse in a room full of remlits.

Snarls and whimpers broke out. Link tightened his grip on the sword. He knew that sound well from his time in the woods. It was the sound of bokoblins eager to rip him to shreds. He counted the beasts, his palms starting to sweat. Forest bokoblins never were much of a threat, although some were stronger than others. But these demon realm bokoblins... They were larger and more aggressive. If they were all as quick as the two creatures he'd just taken down in the stairwell...

He had to go for it. Now.

Adrenaline-fueled, Link made a hasty run for it. As his feet pounded the floor, chaos broke out. He flinched at the eruption of shouts and growls, all aimed at him. "Oh, my goddesses," he panted, straining against the weight of the iron in his hands. He looked from one bokoblin to the next. Snapping teeth and jittery feet - they wanted him.

Then, it happened. A bokoblin broke loose from its master. The man hollered as the creature dashed through the crowd, hurtling straight for its target.

Abashed, Link ran faster, paying no heed to his discomfort.

More shouting. He felt a vibration behind him. It grew in volume and strength until Link had to turn around. A group of hulking creatures was on his tail.

Panic tried to seize him. He looked to his sword, wanting to sheathe it but needing it to be ready.

But there were so many of them and only one of him; was a single sword enough to fend them off?

He turned his attention ahead to a very welcome sight: the way out. His face lit up.

Cheering in his head, Link zipped through the open door. Stone steps descended into a dimly lit courtyard.

Under a darkening sky he ran. Trying to visualize his escape, Link saw an enclosed walkway and several trees, but most of all, huge walls surrounding the courtyard.

"Fi!" Link called, "I -"

But he was torn from his sprint and dragged to the ground. He landed with a suffocated shout.

He turned to see a red bokoblin on his back. Link's head jerked back as his hair was pulled. His sword was slipping through his fingers.

Groaning from the pain, Link grasped the hilt in both hands and thrust the blade over his head. With a shriek, the creature toppled off, clutching its blood-soaked chest.

Free at last, Link pushed himself up and dashed once more. But just as he had picked up speed he was tackled to the ground again.

A flurry of hands grabbed at him, tearing at his clothes and scrambling for his weapon. Link scratched at the ground as he was dragged and groped. He shouted as claws shredded his tunic. He hugged the Goddess Sword to his body with all of his might.

His belt was yanked from him. His bags were tossed aside like garbage. Greedy hands and murderous faces entrapped him.

_A spin attack...__ I need to stand.._. he told himself before his head was knocked to the side, filling his vision with bright stars.

Within seconds his knight's cap was gone and his hair was caught up in a bokoblin's fist. Almost blinded by the agony, Link thrust his sword in front of him, stabbing an attacker in the torso. Losing steam, he swung the red blade at another. Blood spattered his face and clothes, but the creatures kept coming.

"Fi! What am I supposed to do?" Link cried before his face was smashed into the dirt. Dust and sand crept into his nose and mouth as he struggled.

"I believe you are done for, _master_," a familiar voice stated. Shaking under the weight of several creatures, Link looked around. "They won't stop at just your clothing and armor, you know. In fact, they won't cease until you are peeled down to the bone."

"No..." Link muttered.

"Perhaps if you ask me for help…" Ghirahim said, crossing his arms and grinning, "…then maybe, _just maybe_, I'll save you."

Link lay there wheezing and coughing. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"I'd make a decision quickly, hero, before you're lying there completely naked with no weapon to speak of. Good luck reclaiming your stolen blade from these savages. This is the only fun these little devils have had in a long time."

Link shook his head. The sound of metal ripping burst into his ears. His chain mail had been perforated.

"Alright! Please!" Link called out. The claws scraped his skin beneath the damaged armor.

"Please _what_?" Ghirahim asked.

"Please…help me," Link grumbled, his head lowering and his tongue curling in rebellion.

"I can't hear you, sky child," Ghirahim sang.

Heaving a sigh, Link loosed his tongue. "Please, help me!"

As if it had never existed, Link's armor was ripped away. Burying his head under his free hand, he lay helplessly as every last piece of leather was stripped from his arms. He stared at the ground, certain that he would soon be seeing his own blood on the ground.

Then, he felt a hand take hold of his shirt and pull him up. Breathing like a half-drowned man, he fell against the demon.

With his face on Ghirahim's chest, Link heard the soft sounds of skittering. He didn't know how the demon had done it, but he didn't care - the ravenous beasts had finally left him alone.

His cuts were stinging, his head ached, his muscles were sore, but the demon's chest was warm, and -

He opened his eyes and looked at his hand. It had a firm grasp on the red velvet hanging from Ghirahim's shoulders. He tried to step back, but the demon held him there.

Link cringed in the demon's embrace. If it was meant to mortify him, it was working.

"I could have let them finish you off like a piece of meat, sky child; to the point that they chewed your bones until they ossified at my feet. It's no less than what you deserve for running away from me." Link closed his eyes, overwhelmed by everything.

"I'm not letting you get away from me again," Ghirahim said, wrapping a thick chain around his neck.

"What -" Link called before his throat was constricted by metal.

"We've got a good deal of ground to cover before we reach our destination," Ghirahim informed him cheerfully. "And if you are going to behave like a flighty animal, then I'm going to treat you like one." He reached out and nabbed the Goddess Sword from Link's hands. Before he could fight back he was forced into a march. Coughing, he wrapped his fingers around the chain.

"If you're so powerful, why not snap your fingers and bring us there instantly?" Link asked sarcastically. He heard malicious laughter that was not Ghirahim's. He was being watched; made into a spectacle and ridiculed.

"Abject humiliation, of course," Ghirahim said with a flip of the sword. He flashed a white grin into the bloody blade.

"Hello, Fi, my _darling_," he cooed, giving it a kiss.


	3. Silent Requiem

_There are some references to the prequel in this chapter - a MidLink make out session and Pipit's concussion.__ These chapters will be available to read once I rewrite them._

_Other than that, just enjoy the chapter! ^_^_

Chapter 3

Silent Requiem

Link had been so preoccupied with feeling more abased than he ever had in his life that he missed some of the grandest sights in the demon realm. As he clenched his eyes shut against the discomfort around his neck, he failed to see the baronial splendor of the chateau - which to him had acted as a prison - as it receded in the distance. It hung behind the silhouettes of several more stone structures dotting the vast, arid landscape.

As he tried to pry the metal away from his throat, he missed the gracing of the deep yellow sky. As he coughed and wheezed, the mountain range along the horizon went unnoticed.

An eerie glow fell as Link followed the demon. A listless wind brushed his face. The smell of the forest - the scent of freedom - toyed with his nose.

He might've missed the otherworldly scenery, but the trees were impossible to ignore. They reached down to him, bending and furling like fingers. Like the demon, the trees were difficult not to watch. They looked as though they might lunge forward at a moment's notice, claw-like branches extended.

Lost in his own world, Link stumbled as the chain tightened around his neck like a choke collar.

"Step lively, hero," Ghirahim called, turning his head. "We have a long way to go before we reach what you would call my sparring hall."

_Sparring hall?_ Link thought. What the demon had mentioned earlier about going head-to-head came to mind. "This isn't fair," he grumbled. "How can I fight like this? I hardly ate anything for days in the woods. I'm dehydrated, I'm sick -"

"Can I really be blamed for your poor choices?" Ghirahim asked, facing forward with a smile. "Whose fault is it that you have no commonsense? Come now. There's no possible way that it could be mine."

"You can't do this to someone," Link said, his mouth more parched than ever.

"I'm not concerned with pedantries, nor do I have a scrap of interest in being a shining example of how to live by your silly Knight's Code. When an unparalleled opportunity is laid before me, I seize it through whatever means necessary. Your honor and gallantry can take a blissful hike, sky child."

Link quietly stared at his feet.

"You know, sky child, your buoyant nature, while endlessly annoying, is the only thing in your possession that can be credited for your remaining in your right mind today."

"Buoyant nature..." Link rasped. "Doesn't that mean...unbreakable?"

"I'm not finished, " Ghirahim scolded. "What I'm saying is this: you may be resilient, but don't think for one minute that you are unbreakable. Everyone's spirit, in one way or another, can be shattered. The trick is to find the correct avenue." He glanced back. "Your strength of will will eventually fail you. That is certain. It is not a question of if, but of when."

Link's eyes sank to the ground. He didn't know whether to be hurt, depressed or furious. He kicked up dirt as he stepped, observing it as it floated in the air; it was so much more free than him.

What was this? How did he end up on a dusty road in the demon realm, chained like a dog?

Should he really be worrying about himself when Zelda could be in trouble? Was he really as selfish as the demon had said?

Link shook his head. Why was he even thinking like that? Was anything that the demon had to say really all that substantive? If Link was in trouble, then he couldn't help Zelda. That was what mattered.

Hungry for answers about his best friend, Link threw his caution to the lifeless wind. "Why do you call Zelda a spirit maiden?" he asked.

Without bothering to look back, Ghirahim gave a scoffing laugh, twirling the Goddess Sword in circles. "Oh, my. What sort of cruelty has consumed the Goddess to cause her to send such an ignorant, quixotic snipe to do her will? What bosh! What prattle!"

Link gnawed his tongue.

"'Why is she called a spirit maiden, he asks? Oh, that is funny, sky child."

"Then...tell me," Link said, surprising himself. He knew saying anything was a bad idea. The demon said nothing. Link lifted his eyes, sure that he had overstepped a boundary.

"You will learn more about the spirit maiden's affairs in time," Ghirahim assured him.

Link looked down again, amazed that he hadn't been rewarded with a slap to the face. He was pushing his luck. "Why can't you...tell me now?"

"You ask too many questions, sky child."

"When there are questions to be asked...I do," Link quipped, not knowing why he was allowing such things to leave his mouth. He had just been tied down and terrorized, verbally scourged and beaten. What was stopping it from happening again?

The demon tilted his head, drawing Link's gaze. He thought he saw the demon smile. He wasn't sure.

"Your bravery coupled with your pitiful weakness is amusing to me." The demon turned away, giving the chain in his hand a jingle. Link waited for the not-so-gentle reminder to pick up the pace. "Darkness is falling. The Faron Woods after nightfall are a child's playground compared to the perilousness of the Acheron Woods. You're lucky I'm here to protect you."

_Protect me? _Link's eyes wanted to roll.

"The fell creatures that roam these woods are the stuff of nightmares. Fortunately for you, everything here that lives and breathes is fain to obey their lord."

_With the exception of one,_ Link thought.

Ghirahim smiled. "Well, all things must come to an end, as will the insubordination of a tearaway such as yourself. And do you know what, sky child?"

Link gasped. _How did he...?_

Ghirahim stopped and Link did the same, narrowly avoiding running into him. "The more stubborn they are, the harder and more beautifully they fall to their knees when the time comes." He started walking again. Link staggered after him.

"But don't be consopited by a false sense of security, hero," Ghirahim warned. "Just because I can repel savage creatures and have saved you from a razing outside of my residence, it does not mean that you are safe from harm in my presence."

Link took a deep, forced breath, endeavoring to kill the itch in his throat. "Your residence?"

A town began to rise up in the distance. Trees reminiscent of corpses thickened on either side of them.

"Yes, sky child. Did I not ask you earlier who you thought you were talking to when you insisted on irreverence? It only makes sense for a mogul of society to live in luxury. You saw a mere scantling of the place that I call home. I believe that in time you will experience the true heighth and breadth of it."

Link's face soured. "I'm not going back there."

"Don't make me laugh, hero. Who holds the reins right now? You have no control. It could be argued, however, that you have the aptitude to influence my judgment over you. But it depends what you choose to do."

"And what are my options?" Link asked.

"What is the sense in presenting you with choices which you can't hope to understand right now? I repeat - patience."

"An important decision..." Link muttered. "You said I will have to make one."

"You do, indeed."

Modest stone buildings mixed with the grandeur of larger ones showed themselves over a hill. Link had never seen such a sight.

"Your time shall come," the demon said. "I have no obligation to explain every detail to you right now. One step at a time."

"If I'm as pitiful as you say..." Link questioned his words as he spoke them. "Why do you need me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, hero. I don't need you. The path to victory branches out in many directions. You are simply standing along _my_ projected pathway." The demon gave a low chuckle. "You are a paper tiger, sky child - insignificant in nature yet harboring potential. My original focus was to simply enjoy some time with you in the event that my conquest was delayed. Now I have...changed my mind."

Link stared at the back of his head, wary of asking questions.

"In due time, sky child," Ghirahim said as if he knew what Link wanted to say. "Ah! The town of Acheron draws nigh! This will be the location of our encounter. Hopefully this evening will be to your liking."

Link felt his insides twist in fear. If the demon was as agile as he was strong, he would be in for a strenuous fight; an intimidating prospect for someone unwell.

Link needed a tactic, but what? Escape would be ideal, but Ghirahim had him under his thumb. Perhaps he should get him talking.

"So…why do you call Fi a witch?" Link asked quietly.

The demon took his time in responding. "Because that's exactly what she is, sky child." He paused. "Are you certain you can trust her?"

Link looked at him strangely. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Don't play stupid. I'm aware of your apprehension regarding the one who is your supposed guide. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe she isn't who she says she is?"

Link's feet faltered. He steadied himself. "Not who she says she is?"

"Yes," Ghirahim said. "How do you know she isn't working for me?"

"Right..." Link mumbled in disbelief.

"It's not as far-fetched as you might think," Ghirahim said. "Did she not leave you blind to your fate on purpose? When you asked her for advice as you scampered around those woods like a fool, she declined to share her knowledge with you. She knew that you were walking into a trap but refused to warn you ahead of time. How _rude_ of her."

Link stared blankly for a few moments. What he was hearing did contain a hint of truth.

"She led you right to me, sky child."

"That can't be true..." Link said." She was telling me to go home for days. I got sick because I...didn't listen." He looked down. "What happened was my fault."

A gleeful laugh rose up. "She knew long before that you were too confident to heed her advice. Pushing you into my snare was an ace in the hole. Thank you, Fi." The demon winked into the newly cleaned blade. "Do you really think your companion is faultless? Incapable of acting against her commissioner? Tell me, sky child, why do you think your spirit guide is devoid of the ability to think and function beyond hard facts and analyses? To feel?" He eyed Link in the sword's reflection.

"I -"

"Do you think she's always been an emotional wasteland?" Link shrugged. "That's right. You have no idea, because you know nothing about her. You've known her for a week. _I_, on the other hand, know her more deeply than you could ever possibly hope to, human."

_Goddesses, what is this?_ Link shook his head.

"Speaking of false friends, how about your brown-haired comrade?" Ghirahim asked. Link's chest suddenly felt like stone. "Not only has he not forgiven you for giving him a concussion, but I think he wants you in the worst way."

Link's jaw dropped. "...What?"

"And the spirit maiden," the demon continued. "She is why you are here. She has set you up for disaster."

Link looked at his hands, taken aback.

"We've already discussed your girlfriend, but why not expound? There is a lot to say about her. She is a bit on the odd side, is she not?"

"...Odd?"

"Don't be so blinkered!" Ghirahim shouted. Link flinched. "How narrow-minded are you, sky child? Haven't you found her behavior the least bit unsettling? Or are you truly that distracted by a pretty face, large breasts and a waist-to-hip ratio of '.6'?" Uncomfortable, Link fidgeted with his chain. "Oh, Goddess, how you did fall short by choosing a reckless, wayward child who is so prompted by caprice and distracted by his raging hormones that he fails to see a temptress for what she truly is."

Link turned red.

"The way she springs up out of nowhere; that she had to work to become lightfast. Her need to adjust to the sunlight should have raised a warning flag in that silly little brain of yours."

Link swallowed. "It's because of where she's from..."

"Twilight?" Ghirahim asked with a devious smile. "Well, that explains it all, doesn't it?" He flipped the sword around some more. "Don't be a dimwit. The sun may be weak in that area of your world, but that does not mean that the Twili's are vampires. Those people don't need to wear heavy cloaks to shield themselves from the sun like your girlfriend did. Do you know who _really_ has to work to become lightfast?"

Link didn't notice that he'd been grinding his teeth until his mouth started to hurt.

Ghirahim halted once more. This time Link failed to stop in time, bouncing off of the demon's back. Ghirahim turned and looked down. Link returned his stare. The demon's face screamed exhilaration.

"Demons!" Ghirahim cried as he lifted his arms to the sky. "Demons, sky child! Demons have to adjust to the sunlight, because _look_!" Link observed the demon's vehement wave. "We have no sun here."

Link stepped back, his face suggesting that he found the demon to be crazy.

"I'm crazy about the _truth_, sky child," Ghirahim said with an excited grin. "Come now. It makes sense, no? Demons are crafty, and she was tricky enough to lure you into some rather licentious activities. On the day that you met her, no less! Just a little out of character for you, is it not?" Link looked away from Ghirahim's lustful glare. "She did a fabulous job, I must say. She had you..." He leaned down. "...Eating out of the palm of her hand." With a smirk he pumped his fist, laughing at Link's revolted, flushed face. "And you knew, sky child… You knew what you were getting into. Have you wondered why she was so bent on corrupting you? Stealing your purity?"

"That's not true," Link said obstinately. "Everything you're saying... It's slander."

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood. Or I'd rip this fetter off your neck and use you for whipping practice." He played with the chain. "Give it up, sky child. Acknowledge that I'm right. Admit that your girlfriend's peculiarity has left you dumbfounded."

Link's stare was intractable. "She's not perfect." _And there's more to her than her body...and...needs._ He looked to the trees. "She cares about me..."

"Demons are exceptional actors," Ghirahim stated, unimpressed.

_So why am I listening to you_? Link thought, his anger simmering.

"Because my words are irrefutably true, sky child." Ghirahim stepped closer. Link's breath caught in his throat as his neck was grabbed. Huge eyes closed in, making the hair on his arms stand up. The demon's hand went from grappling to caressing.

"Why do you think her touch sends bolts of electricity coursing through your every nerve, your every vein? Every seam of your body...?" The demon's eyes trailed down Link's neck with his finger. "When she embraces you?" Link froze. "It's unlike any feeling you've ever had. Even the spirit maiden can't compare. Your temptress's touch sends you to a place superlunary, beyond the moon. In fact, just the thought sends you aerial, am I right?"

"That's because I love her," Link said quickly. Not knowing what he just said, he didn't move.

"Demons are known for their sexual prowess; for their abilities to drive humans wild through thought alone. She has more power than you've had the opportunity to see or feel. But you know it's there. She's infected you with it." Link retracted from the demon's finger. "It's even in your textbooks. Do you realize that?

_Textbooks? _Link thought, perplexed. Then it came to him. "Mythology class…" His voice was inaudible.

"You even took a test on it," Ghirahim sang. Link couldn't get over how much the demon knew. "I told you I know more about you than you do, yourself."

"What...grade did I get?" Link asked, going off on a sudden hunch. His gaze came up, tentative but challenging.

Ghirahim raised a brow. "The human mind, while _small_..." He squeezed Link's neck again. "...Is infinitely complex."

"So you...don't know." Link's blue eyes brightened. "You don't know everything."

Ghirahim waited.

"You -" Link felt a nervous stutter on the tip of his tongue. He took a breath. He just had to speak his mind. "You talk a lot about what's wrong with me. Well, you're not perfect." Link stood up straighter. "Maybe I do have a guilt complex..." His eyes hardened a bit. "But it's not gonna be my downfall." He pulled away from Ghirahim's grasp. The demon gave him a curious look. "And I might have made some mistakes with my friends, but what does it matter if they're double agents and demons?" He didn't know why he uttered it. "I think you took Zelda. Or that you tried to, which means only one thing."

Overtaken by a boldness he couldn't comprehend, Link squared his shoulders. "You're not as powerful as you claim."

"I am this realm's most powerful patrician," the demon said.

But Link wasn't finished.

"I think that you sent that tornado that took Zelda." Link fixed his eyes on Ghirahim's. "I never caught up with her because I got sick. But you, with all of your...power…" He thought for a moment. "…If you were there to catch her as she fell, and you missed her…" His volume increased. "…Then you failed a lot more than I did."

The moment that Link's lips stopped moving, the weight of his own words hit him. He looked away. The only sound was the rustle of a stale breeze, tinged by a distant clamor.

Link's fingers jittered. His heart thumped. He was afraid to lift his eyes, but he made himself.

As soon as he saw the demon's face, he was sorry he ever opened his mouth.

Fury. Wrath. Seething ire. Link couldn't quite place what was forming in front of him. He glanced into the woods.

He knew it was coming.

Sensing that Ghirahim was about to come for him, he turned and ran. He heard the chain snap out of the demon's hand. Gasping, he flew into the brush with total abandon.

The interior of the forest was even more terrifying than its outskirts. It was as dark as an underwater cave. The brittle trees bent and hung, reaching their sharp branches out. Twigs sliced through his sleeves, happily drawing the blood of a human; something rarely seen in this menacing place.

Sprinting, he weaved through trees, pushing further into the darkness. It was like a nightmare.

A loud, guttural growl pulled his head to the right. A high-pitched shriek to his left made him reel the other way. He crashed into a tree.

Link plunged to the dirt and rolled over. Panting and groaning, he ran his hands in the dirt to find the loose chain. Strung out, he shot forward, his eyes streaming with pained tears.

A silent requiem blasted all around him.

The long chain slipped from his hand as he ran. He took another step, then another, and another…

His head lurched back and his feet shot out from under him, sending him to the ground once more.

His breath was knocked from him. His vision was going white. He tried to spot the demon. Surely this was his doing.

Link slowly sat up. He was positive that Ghirahim would be standing there, ready to rip him to shreds. Holding his tightening chest, he squinted, seeing nothing but emptiness.

"Sky child..." Link's head swung every which way, but he saw no one.

"Sky child, if you're trying to get away from me, you'll have to run the other way…"

Link stared ahead into nothingness as adrenaline flooded him. The demon's voice wasn't in front of him, or behind him, to the sides or above. It seemed to be coming from everywhere.

Link got up and started running from where he'd come. Or perhaps it was the opposite direction. He didn't know. Every path seemed to lead to the same place.

"You're not going to escape me, my pet."

Link scurried, dodging trees and skipping over roots. A thorn swiped at his face, missing his eye but drawing blood from his temple. He barely noticed.

Out of nowhere a shadow appeared. Unable to stop, Link collided with it. Knocked back, he hit the ground even harder than before. Bright colors flashed before him.

Before he could even think, a hand took his wrist and hauled him to his feet. He gaped, suddenly face-to-face with Ghirahim. The demon's eyes were a burning red in the dark. Frantic, Link tried to break free.

The demon released him, but followed. Link backed up, hunching further down as he went until a tree stopped him. His stumble to the ground was broken by the demon's grip on his hair. He grabbed his captor's arm.

"You're at death's door, sky child," Ghirahim said, his voice modulated. "The question is, will you walk through it the doughty hero that you believe yourself to be, or will you crawl through as the harrowed bauble of the Goddess that I am about to reduce you to?"

With fingers digging into his scalp, Link scraped at the demon's hand, trying not to shake. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Straining against the agony, Link felt the demon pushing him down. He tried his hardest to counter.

When the lock of his knees was finally broken, he fell with shout. As his knees hit the dirt, the demon stood calmly, only slightly jarred by Link's struggling. He grinned.

Ghirahim drew the Goddess Sword out of thin air, illuminating the woods around them. He admired the weapon's sharpness. He tossed it into the air before catching it by its blade. He studied the leather-wrapped grip. Ghirahim's smile broadened to its limit.

"I'm going to enjoy this," the demon lord said with a chuckle.


	4. To Fight Like a Demon

Chapter 4

To Fight Like a Demon

Caught in a state of forced genuflection, Link watched as the demon closed in. His hair was being twisted and his knees were digging into the dirt. He shivered. If the blazing fever had ever left his body it was now returning.

Freezing in place, Link listened to the soft rustle of velvet and the creak of leather as the demon lowered to his level. Their eyes locked. Link looked at his captor in trepidation, almost unable to distinguish his eyes from the surrounding darkness. The light of the sword had faded; even in the gloom, he could see the rage -

Not just in the demon's face, but in the hand that clutched the Goddess Sword. Mostly steady and controlled, his fist was tight and slightly shaky.

What in the world was the demon going to do with the sword? Beat him over the head with the fuller? Carve his initials into his skin? Behead him? The possibilities were endless.

Link's life was under siege; or at the very least, his honor. His mind slalomed with chaotic thoughts of escape - thoughts of the open air above Skyloft, of embracing Midna, of dancing with Zelda, of laughing and doing something pointless with Pipit. A vision of his warm bed cropped up, of a warm drink prepared by Henya's loving hands. He just wanted to sleep and recover, and...

Find Zelda. And bring her home. That's what he was here for, what he had come to the surface to achieve. Amid the horror of this night, he feared he had lost sight of that.

Now, an all-encompassing scourging with his very own weapon was coming. _This can't be happening, _Link thought. His first instinct was to call for Fi, but what could she possibly do for him? Link suspected that the Goddess had never intended for him and his guide to be caught by the enemy.

Why did the demon push him to his knees? Why did he want him here? Link didn't want to think about it.

He heard wrathful speech, words uttered in a foreign language, one that Link could only assume was demonic. It was harsh to the human ear. He blenched at the sound, wishing that he could reclaim his sword; escape was written all over it.

"How long must I endure his appalling lack of understanding, his outright disrespect..." Ghirahim snarled, dropping his head. "How long must I hold back…"

Link was wide-eyed. Sliding back under the force of the demon's hand, he squirmed, grunting as his back hit the tree.

"You are correct, sky child," Ghirahim said in a breathy voice, his head still hanging. "I tell you this if only to plant a seed of wisdom in that silly head of yours. While I am and always will be superior to you, I do have my own character flaws. Overzealousness is one. Trouble denying myself guilty pleasures is another." When his hair was released, Link took a relieved breath. "I am slotted in a battle of my own to tolerate you. Do not...tempt me..." He leaned further in, giving a wavering smile. "And I am going to teach you a lesson that you won't soon forget."

He grabbed Link's neck. A look of pleasure washed over him. "Do you know yet how I obtained my information from you, sky child? Have you sorted through that feeble memory of yours to reacquire what you've been taught as myth?"

Link quickly nodded, his parted lips just inches from the demon's. He stared as the tip of his black tongue slipped out like the head of a snake.

_Oh, gods… _Link thought despondently. _No..._

That tongue, it was... alive. Link gaped at it. Suddenly he knew why he had woken up to such odd sensations on that cold floor. He had been experiencing the after-sensation of a mind probe; the remnants of stimulation that had tainted him with the same poison that Ghirahim had accused Midna of having. He'd learned about this very thing as a kid, except then, it had been a joke.

It was grimly satirical how he, as well as everyone else in Skyloft, had only been taught about demons in the context of mythology. Folklore was full of stories touting the dangers of demons and their seductive talents; how they would titillate and lure humans into sexual traps. These stories were allegories, their purpose to warn young adults against poor judgment in the teenage years. Link had fond memories of laughing hysterically with Pipit over such preposterous tales. Today, however, the myth had become an ironic reality.

_How dare he_ _say I'm anything like him.__ _I'd _never_ enjoy his touch…_ _Link's face heated up at the thought.

"I was merely trying to frighten you, sky child," Ghirahim said. "Not arouse you."

Link's head snapped back. "I'm not -"

"How would your little succubus feel about you going for an incubus instead?" The demon's grin was wily and malicious. Link shook his head. "I do believe your ears are turning rather damask, sky child. I must have made you feel a lot better earlier than I thought." He chuckled. "Does the idea of being hopelessly sex-addicted scare you?" Link said nothing. "Although that would require things of me which you are unworthy of." He dug his nails into Link's neck. "And right now, I have the pragmatic issue of your punishment to deal with."

The two exchanged glances in the hushed darkness. Link's heartbeat sped up again. The demon's eyes were roaming across his body. Link looked at the sword once more.

His hand darted for the weapon with the quickness of a falcon, but found nothing but air. The demon had lifted the weapon out of reach. A baleful smile spread slowly across his face.

"No, no, no, sky child," he chided, shaking his head. Link's shoulders slumped in disappointment. His sword was so close, yet so far. He shivered.

"I'll tell you one thing, sky child," Ghirahim said, looking deeply into Link's eyes. "Verily I say unto you…" Link gulped, his throat aching. "…When you finally get up, you will never, _ever_ look at this sword the same way again."

Ghirahim had barely finished his sentence when Link hammer-fisted the side his head, knocking him to the left. The demon threw the sword behind him and reached out. Link rolled out of his reach and jumped for the blade. Slower than usual, Link was grabbed by the shoulder. With incredible force he was shoved to the ground. Pinned, he drew his knees up, thrust his feet into the demon's stomach and jabbed him in the nose with the heel of his hand.

As the demon pulled back, Link rolled out from under him and scrambled for the sword. Just when victory was at his fingertips, an arm wrapped around his neck, securing him in a choke hold. On his knees again, Link clutched the demon's forearm, dropping his weight to break free. Ghirahim sat back and smiled at the top of the human's head. "Isn't this the same pitiless grapple that you held your best friend in after you gave him a concussion?" He twisted Link's neck to force his ear up. His white lips brushed against the cartilage, sweeping across his sapphire earring. "Is that how a hero treats his friends? You're such a humanitarian, sky child." He took a nibble. Link gasped and wriggled in his grip.

Taking the sword in one hand and scooping Link around the middle with the other, the demon rose up, lifting the human with him and sending his head to the ground. Link caught himself with his arms. The chain hit the dirt with a clank.

Taken by surprise, Link flailed his feet. The pressure in his head seemed to explode into something almost unbearable. Already too weak to be in this position, he kicked, his arms quivering.

Growing angrier by the second, he struggled harder. A cloud of dust formed, sending grit into his eyes. He fought until his arms gave out and his head hit the ground.

He heard Ghirahim giggle. He opened his reddening eyes, bit his tongue and pushed against the forest floor. He was merely a plaything right now. And the demon was laughing at him.

"Did you really beg for my help only to end up here?" the demon teased.

Humiliation - that was all Link could feel. With blood rushing to his face and every limb fatigued, a mixture of fear and fury burgeoned.

"I don't think I need to tell you what I plan to do with this sword," Ghirahim said with a mocking sigh. "And I hope you don't mind if I rest my tired arm on your rump. I'm afraid our little nature walk has left me a bit knackered."

Link's jaw dropped. This couldn't be happening.

"Every convicted heretic of this realm empathizes with you right now, sky child." He rubbed Link's belt.

"You're...kidding," Link muttered, almost unable to speak.

"Hm. What do you think?"

"If this is…how you treat…those under your rule…then I'm glad I get to fight you."

"However, those who blaspheme their king are normally bludgeoned with a more _spiky_ object. I can go find something truer to life if you like."

_King…_

"But I'd say that the smooth hilt of this sword is a much better option." Link's chest heaved. "In fact, one could argue that it might even be pleasant in comparison. Except this rather large pommel could serve as a bit of a problem for you."

"Let me down!" Link yelled, aiming a foot at the demon's face.

"I'm teaching you a lesson, remember? Unless of course you'd like me to exonerate you. Perhaps a plea bargain can be agreed upon." Link panted into the dirt. "Trouble is, something that you beg for more of can't possibly be considered a punishment."

"Why...are you…doing this?" Link breathed.

"Because you humans consider your sexuality to be something so laughably sacred that it's the simplest way to break you, sky child," Ghirahim said. "Shall we give it a go?" Link didn't respond. Ghirahim tugged on the waistline of his pants.

"No!" Link cried.

"Beg, sky child," the demon purred. "Beg, and maybe I won't."

Link clenched up. "I'm...through asking you for anything."

"Then I suggest you brace yourself." Ghirahim gazed into the blade. "I think your witch may enjoy this." Link's eyes widened. "Has she ever told you about her fetish for boys in green?"

Appalled, Link craned his neck to look behind him. "Okay..." he mumbled.

The demon smiled and cocked his head. "Doth my ear deceive me? Dost thou beg, albeit indirectly?"

Link sighed. Pain was shooting from his shoulders to his head. "If it helps Fi."

"I would very much appreciate a sumptuous begging session, sky child. Let's hear it, then."

Link's lower half thumped to the ground. He was so relieved that he didn't care. With the smell of dirt filling his nose, he took a huge breath, laid out at the demon's feet.

"Did I not tell you that you would be begging soon? Oh, this is too lovely," Ghirahim said with a plummy tone.

Link started to push himself up, slowly catching his breath. "What will happen after? Will you do it anyway? Beat me some more? Steal my..." He swallowed. "Kill me?"

"No, no, not yet, and not exactly, to answer all of your questions. Your contrition has filled my happiness bank to exploding. It's smiles and fuzzy little kittens all around." Link sat up and curled his fingers around his chain. "I am willing to overlook your lamentable attempt at escape, after you show me how contrite you can be, as I mentioned." He grinned. "In addition, perhaps I can teach you a lesson of a different sort."

After much toil, Link finally reached an upright position on his knees. "What?" He rubbed his face.

"It means I've been visited by a brilliant idea; an epiphany of sorts, if you will. A fun little game for us to play before we resume our trip."

A pleasant picture appeared in Link's head: his violin. The idea of having total control over something so complex was unbelievably satisfying. Right now he needed it more than ever. The soft feel of Midna's hands wouldn't be so bad, either, even if she was a 'demonic enchantress'.

"Whenever you're ready, hero." Ghirahim held his hands out.

Daydreaming, Link looked at the ground.

"Come now, hero. I'm not so fastidious that you should have stage fright."

Brought back to the moment, Link chewed his lip. He told himself he was lucky not to be suffering through something worse. "What do you want me to say?"

"Be creative," Ghirahim said, crossing his arms.

Link closed his eyes. "Please -"

"Fold your hands," Ghirahim said. Staring down, Link followed his orders. "Hold them up. Come on, sky child. It's a classic begging pose."

Link considered the prideful words he'd said to Pipit before coming to the surface. What would his best friend think of him now? Ashamed, he held his hands up. "Please -"

"Look at me when you're speaking, sky child."

Link reluctantly looked up. "Please..." His throat wanted to constrict, not so much from the pain, but the words. "Please..." He knew his face was flaming red. "...don't do it."

"Please, _spare me_," Ghirahim suggested with a smirk. "And say it with feeling." His eyes bore down. "Actually, put your hands on the ground. I want you lower."

Link's limbs just didn't want to move. He felt guilty for coming to the surface. _Why didn't I listen to Fi? ...Why? _He felt guilty for feeling guilty. _Why did I run my mouth? Why did I run away?_

"Any day now, my crestfallen hero." Link's hands slammed to the ground. "Look up." He did. "Now say it."

"Please..." Link thought about Zelda. His eyes started to burn. "_Spare me_." His head sank down. The demon groaned with contentment.

Link closed his eyes. Was he breaking? The idea made him seethe. If he was going to break, he wondered which aspect of his current situation would be responsible for it: the possibility of being taken advantage of? The thought of never seeing his home or his friends again? The pain? Becoming sicker by the hour? The hunger? Thirst? The overall bleakness and hopelessness?

With so many things to choose from, he couldn't decide. _Unbreakable, unbreakable..._ he chanted.

What did it mean for a man to break, anyway? Was it to crumple to the ground in an aggrieved heap of tears? To bend to the will of his captor without a single ounce of resistance? To lose all volition to fight back? To become so disheartened that the thought of escape would never cross his mind again?

Glowering at the ground, Link nodded to himself. He wasn't there yet.

"Do I truly have the Goddess's chosen one on his knees before me?" Ghirahim asked. Link raised his galled face. "It has been such a long, long time." He closed his eyes and grinned blissfully. "Although, last time..." He looked at Link. "He was begging for something else." Link sat back on his feet, confused. The demon leaned down and pulled him up. Link wobbled a bit. "You are quite fortunate that I am so gracious."

Link looked at the demon's hand around his bicep.

"One last thing, sky child." Link jerked his head up, finding the demon's face uncomfortably close to his. "Admit that you are at my whim." Ghirahim watched his own thumb pet Link's cheek. "Admit that I have the power to make you say, or _do_, anything."

Link gawked at him. He immediately wished he was back on the ground.

"Just acknowledge it," the demon said, his voice deep and calm.

Corralled by the demon's arms, Link had little choice but to nod.

Ghirahim's face melted even more. "It does my heart good for the honorable knight of prophecy to submit to me." Link cringed. The demon seemed so pleased that he expected him to wink. "Shall we move on to a more operative activity?"

Without taking his eyes off of him, Ghirahim placed the hilt of the weapon into Link's hand. He looked at it as though he hadn't held it in years.

His brooding was cut short when the demon sent a high-pitched whistle into the air. Startled, Link hopped back. The sound reminded him of a loftwing call.

He looked around guardedly, his heartbeat quickening.

"How good are you at facing certain death, sky child?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, you'll see," the demon answered with a grin.

The ground began to vibrate.

"What is that?" Link took his sword in both hands. A throaty growl came out of nowhere.

"It's a couple of things, actually," Ghirahim said. "First of all, it's your teacher. Second of all, it's my entertainment. I hope you're ready, sky child." Ghirahim gave him a brisk pat. Link stiffened at the sound of a piercing cry.

With the demon watching him closely, Link stared ahead. Sliding his left foot back, he stepped into a battle stance.

From the depths of the forest, a body emerged. Link's eyes widened. He gripped the sword tighter.

As it crept from the shadows, Link stopped breathing. A huge, bony canine - skinless, with nothing but a tuft of matted fur cloaking its withers. From its rib cage to its spine, every bone on its body protruded into the air. It's sickly, glowing eyes were fixed on Link. What the creature was held together by was unclear. How the creature was alive at all was a mystery.

Link looked himself over - no shield and no armor.

The beast trotted up to the demon. Link watched in amazement.

Ghirahim placed a hand atop the creature's head. "Are you ready to learn something?"

"What..." Link began. "What is that?"

"Say hello to a stalhound, hero," the demon answered. "The most common critter in these woods. Capable of ripping a grown man _or_ demon in half within seconds." Link's gaze flipped back and forth between the two. "I'm going to teach you how to fight." Ghirahim beamed with pride.

"I already...know how to fight."

"No, no," Ghirahim said. "I mean _fight._ Like a demon."

Link looked him in the eye. "But -"

"You do it or you die, sky child." His tone left no room for argument. "And besides, I believe you will be spending more time in this realm in the future than you realize. You had better learn and retain."

With a snap of his fingers and a pleased tilt of his head, Ghirahim sent the signal. In an instant, the canine, with sharp teeth bared, skulked toward its prey.

Standing his ground, Link let the beast come to him. His eyes shot from the creature's head to its feet as he planned, calculating, determining what its movement patterns were like. He flipped the sword in an eager circle and dropped his chin, ready for the clash.

A howl so ear-splitting burst forth that Link nearly dropped his weapon. He stepped back, dizzy.

_Don't show it that you're afraid, _Link told himself. The stalhound's feet sped up. It pounced.

Shouting, Link hauled his blade over his shoulder and swung it down, slicing through the creature's face. Link jumped sideways, gaping as pieces of its mandible tumbled to the ground.

Screeching, the stalhound charged with jaws open and ready. Link twirled out of the way, raising his blade in the air and coming down with as hard of a vertical strike as he could manage. As the sword carved through its ribs, the beast shrieked. Freeing his sword, Link drew back and thrust forward with a vicious shout, sticking the blade in the stalhound's gut.

It fell, kicking and curling up against the stab of Link's weapon. Straining to counter the beast's immense strength, Link pushed until the blade disappeared. A satisfying crunch resounded as bones were broken and life was drained.

Sweating, Link yanked his sword free and jumped back, panting and watching the beast from a distance. Pleased with how the fight was going, Link glanced at the demon. Ghirahim stood with his arms crossed and a skewed grin on his face. What did he want from him?

The stalhound snarled. Link looked down. It was twitching, gyrating in a pile of its own bone fragments. Link sighed, believing the worst was over.

But the canine's eyes opened anew. Surprised, Link witnessed a creature who should have been dead spring to its feet.

Agape, Link looked to Ghirahim. He shook his head in disapproval, placing a gloved finger over his lips.

Before Link could say anything the stalhound bounded again, barking, clawing and swinging its head.

After landing two strikes to the beasts neck, Link took a blow to the chest. He stumbled back, barely stopping himself from falling onto his back.

Groaning, Link held himself, leaning forward. "Fi," he whispered, out of breath.

"Yes, Master," she answered.

"How do I kill this thing?" he asked. He turned a leery eye to the jaunty creature.

"My analysis is inconclusive at this time, Master," Fi stated.

"You're asking the wrong person, hero," Ghirahim called with a wave. Link looked at him. "Do you want to know what you're doing wrong?"

Indignant, Link set his gaze to the stalhound, lifted his sword and dashed forward, meeting it with a holler. The creature reared up, yelping as its skull was practically cleaved in two.

Thinking of the demon and everything that he'd done to him, Link twisted the blade, listening to the crackle of bone. With a huge breath he withdrew, leaping back as the beast fell to the ground once more.

Link wiped his sleeve across his forehead, stuffing his face into the crook of his arm.

"You will never strike down a stalhound if you continue to fight like a by-the-book Skyloftian knight," the demon called.

Ignoring him, Link ran for the prostrate beast, pushed off the ground, swung his blade around and plunged it into its ribs a second time. He reclaimed the blade and stabbed the beast a third time for good measure.

It's skeletal frame rattling, the stalhound whimpered, sending more bits of bone to the dirt. Link gave the demon another look. All he got from him was a shrug.

To his horror, the stalhound rapidly climbed to its feet.

"Would you like my advice?" Ghirahim asked.

Heedless, Link dived into battle once more, swinging and slashing with everything he had. Every time the beast fell, it regained its footing even quicker. Link didn't slow, but his energy was dropping. As his strength waned, the stalhound's seemed to increase.

Breathing hard, Link didn't know what else to aim for. He'd already claimed what looked to be several pounds of bone from the creature. Its head was partially hewed, one of its paws was crushed, its tail was gone, its pelvis and femur were ragged, both of its eyes were missing -

But it was still coming.

Faster still, the beast ran for the human, giving a feisty nip to his sword. The sharp sound of metal against teeth resonated through the trees.

Lightheaded, Link staggered back, fighting to clear his vision before it was too late.

He gasped as he felt his sword slip from his hand. As his fuzzy eyes focused, the demon appeared before him. "You won't be needing this," he said regretfully, deviously. Link stared at his hand. "Look at me, sky child." He slowly listened. The demon swaggered up to him. He put a finger beneath Link's chin. With gentle coaxing he took ownership of the human's gaze. Link looked at his lips. "I think it's time for you to learn a valuable lesson, my hero."

A roar and a shout rang out as Link was dragged backward. Aghast, he reached for the demon but was thrown onto his stomach. With pain flaring in his torso and head, he scuttled to get away. A heavy paw came down, flattening him to the ground.

"You know, hero, you just broke one of the cardinal 'Knight's Code' rules: never turn your back on an enemy."


	5. Divided

Chapter 5

Divided

"My, my, sky child. Truly an impregnable hero, are you? All you've been producing since setting foot in the Skyview Temple is failure. What a disgrace."

Link barely heard what the demon was saying. He was much too preoccupied with preventing the jaws of a murderous beast from scissoring down on his body.

"Look at you, outsmarted and thrown onto your back by an animal. One would never figure you to be undefeated in your little sparring ring back home. What does this say about the standing of the student population at your silly academy? Surely there must be someone among your peers who surpasses you in strength and agility. Otherwise, there is simply no hope for humanity."

Thrashing about in the dirt, Link strained every muscle to maintain control over the stalhound. Splayed over him with its mouth wide open, it fought to clamp down, warring with the force of Link's hands.

"How can you even stand plummeting to rock bottom after achieving such a distinguished reputation? What would your instructors think? What would your classmates have to say? How would your friends feel about you being reduced to the nothingness which you have become today?"

Overexerted, Link writhed and twisted, locking his hands on either side of the stalhound's jaws. His face heated up, not only from the nearly impossible task of evading two-dozen sharp teeth, but from the hurtful words which he couldn't even respond to.

"Pitiful, hapless rakeshame. A craven! How befitting that your uniform was torn from you by the dregs of society, rescinding the only notable, albeit derisory accolade ever awarded you in your meaningless life. Now, here you lay, having nothing in your possession that you arrived with. Pathetic, if you ask me."

Ghirahim stepped away from his place of observation and walked up to the rotating mass of human and undead beast. After cautiously approaching them, he crouched down.

"You have nothing to go home to," he said, the growling stalhound just a few feet from him. With shaking arms, Link looked at the demon as best he could. "There appears to be a shortage of trustworthy people in your life right now, sky child. Your instructors are questionable confidants, to say the least. They've conspired to keep the sacred texts far away from the general population, have they not? Trying to keep something a secret, are they? Perhaps they believe that certain prophecies have the potential to cause widespread panic." He gave a low chuckle. "Such an inferior race you humans are.

"And I do believe I've belabored the point regarding the disreputable nature of your friends." Resting an arm on his knee, he tapped his chin and smiled. "Except for the fact that most of your acquaintances couldn't care less about whether you are safe at home or wandering the wilderness as a recluse." Link grunted and shook his head. He gasped as the stalhound's teeth almost snapped down. He turned his widening eyes to Ghirahim, wondering if he was going to help him. "And the spirit maiden isn't even there for you to speak to. You'll be getting no answers from her." The demon feigned an apologetic shrug.

Breathing heavily, Link felt his hands cramp up. He puffed, gritting his teeth and pushing, wondering how long he could defend himself like this. He felt feverish and fatigued, and more vulnerable than he ever had during a fight.

"Not only do you have no one, but you have nothing to take back home. You are utterly empty-handed, sky child. What will happen when Skyloft's courageous champion returns without his little friend? What will you do then? Retire to your room, a depressed, miserable sad sack with no hope of ever finding the spirit maiden?"

Ghirahim lifted a hand. Right away the frantic stalhound pulled back and ceased all movement. Relieved, Link took a breath, letting his hands drop to his chest. Still distrusting of the creature, he glanced back and forth between it and the demon.

"Oh, you could journey off on your little quest, but you would never last a week, sky child. You are a failure. You know you are a failure. You may wear the mask of confidence and poise, but deep down, you are nothing. You know this." For a moment, Link almost forgot about the danger that was looming over him. He kept his eyes on Ghirahim. "You are a simple run-of-the-mill student from a stale world. The worst you've endured is a three-month-long semester. How could you ever hope to complete something as grand as a Goddess-ordained mission?"

The verbal depredation made Link think of Groose. But even he had never been this cruel.

Ghirahim brought his face closer. He stared so intensely into Link's eyes that the stalhound was all but forgotten. "It matters not what you've been told. The proof is right before you, plain as day. You were not built for heroship, boy."

Link glared back. What was the demon trying to accomplish with all of these insults? Link bit back his mounting anger. To be angry was to be offended, and to be offended was to believe what was being said. He knew that the demon must have been trying to rile him up for some reason.

...So why was he getting mad?

"Tell me, sky child, what are you fighting against?" the demon asked, his bottomless eyes drawing Link inward. "What are you _really_ fighting against?" He placed a hand beside the young man's head and stopped down. "Think about it."

_You. Who else?_

"How many of your enemies have you killed, sky child?" As Link opened his mouth to respond, the demon shushed him with his eyes. He grinned when Link did nothing but blink his eyes a few times. "No, not 'defeated in battle'. Killed, sky child, killed. How many enemies have you _killed_?" Link almost answered.

"The answer is zero. You've killed none. You have an alarming dearth of experience, human." The demon shook his head in disappointment. "What is the worst death that you've ever delivered? What is the most brutal blow that you've ever dealt? A fancy, twisting, leaping stab to a prone forest bokoblin? A cut to one of their throats? Maybe a dirty stab to a turned back?" The demon wagged a chiding finger. "Are you so institutionalized that you can't exceed the mundane? Are you truly so weak?"

Link knew he shouldn't be listening, but he couldn't help it.

"Have you ever beheaded something, sky child?" The demon's fingers curled excitedly. "Have you brought a creature to its doom with your bare hands, ripping it to shreds and tearing it to pieces with nothing more than manual power? Have you ever held the still beating heart of another in your hands?"

Link swallowed, certain that his unimpressive but truthful 'no' would give the demon even more reason to belittle him.

"Well, you're about to, sky child," Ghirahim said with assurance.

Link held his breath as the demon lowered to his side.

"I know you've had those moments, sky child. Those moments where you rise above the mediocrity of what you've been taught, where you let yourself go just a little…" Ghirahim balled a fist. "…Where you abandon that perfect equanimity to revel in that delicious moment of triumph over your opponent. You've been there, sky child, if only for a few fleeting seconds…"

Thoughts sped through Link's mind. The demon couldn't possibly be right...?

"I am not merely referring to incidents in which you've defeated surface creatures. This has happened to you while sparring with humans, as well. Even your friend, sky child."

Link shook his head. _Friend? Pipit?_

"You may be the title-holder at home, but here, you are nothing but a disappointment. If you want to stop being overtaken and want to start dominating once again, then lend me one of those lovely, pointed ears."

Link glanced nervously around, afraid that the feeling of the demon's breath on his ear meant that he was going to bite it, or lick it...

Ghirahim reached a finger toward the side of Link's head. Watching him flinch, the demon smirked. "Fear has overtaken you, sky child. It's reduced you to a pitiful weakling. You've lost your true ability to fight, if you ever had it to begin with."

Link slowly looked at him.

"Reclaim your inner wildcat, sky child. Allow all of that anger, all of those negative feelings toward everyone you know, toward me…" Link listened, stony-faced and still. "Let all of your fear, self-doubt and rage gather together. Let it compress and burst into that surge of brutality that you need to get in touch with what's inside." Ghirahim reached up to rest a hand on the stalhound's head. Link froze, expecting an attack.

"This creature is fueled by fear. It thrives on it. And you have an overabundance of it. That is why _it_ is getting stronger, and _you_ are getting weaker."

Link looked over the stalhound's bony frame once more. Its hunger for blood was practically streaming from its eyes.

_I should have won this fight a while ago. How can fear be strengthening it? Is that really what it is?_

"When I say that I can smell fear on you, I mean it quite literally, sky child," Ghirahim purred into Link's ear. He cringed. "I know that you refuse to admit it, but you and I are alike in many, many ways."

The two exchanged gazes for a time.

"We share many of the same desires…" Ghirahim circled a finger, narrowly missing Link's earring. "Feel much of the same pain… Offer our lives to one greater than ourselves…" He smiled softly, drawing Link's eyes. "Harbor a profound control over our corporeal and mental abilities… "

Link's glower remained untrusting.

"Start using that sixth sense that lies dormant in you, sky child - your ability to experience the dimension which lies beyond your limited intellect." Link focused more closely on the demon. "Are you even aware that you have what it takes to sense fear? To taste it as its essence flourishes before you?" The young man's face loosened."To see with your eyes its smoky waves as it emanates from your enemy? To feel the heat of it as it escapes from and betrays its host's body?" Link wanted to say something, but he didn't know what. "To smell the pungent aroma as it wafts through the air? To hear its distinctive sound as its familiar pitch overtakes your enemy's puling?"

Intrigued, Link couldn't tear his eyes from the demon.

"But there is so much _more_ than that, sky child…" With a twinkle in his eye, he smiled. "Open your mouth and let the flavor sink in. Draw the scent into your nose. Let your enemy's fear strengthen _you_."

_Strengthen me?_

"If you allow it, you will have cerebral dexterity to such a degree that you will see what this beast fears. Use his fears against him. Project your own fear onto him to further weaken him."

Link just gaped at the demon, having no clue what he meant.

"It will mean his death, and your life." Ghirahim gently grasped Link under the chin. He stared blankly into Link's eyes for a moment,only grinning when the young man started wriggling.

"Do you want the opportunity to experience what I've just explained to you? And more? Do you want the chance to sample something transcendental? Something that you could opt to keep if you so desire." Ghirahim's lips floated by Link's. Unsure of whether he felt their touch or not, Link's eyes fluttered.

"Let me transfer it to you," Ghirahim whispered compellingly. Link looked him in the eye. "So facultative you will be, sky child, that you will feel naked in the dark without your new ability. It is but one of the many powers that I have the wherewithal to give you."

Link tried to pull away but was stopped by the demon's hand. On edge, he gasped.

"Push your doubts aside," Ghirahim urged him. Link would have shrunk back if he had been able. "This creature luxuriates in it. Drive the weakness away and instead fill your mind with hatred and fury. So _hate _your enemy that you have an insatiable craving to kill it in the most brutal way imaginable." Link tensed under Ghirahim's grasp. "It is time that you learned how to not only defeat something, sky child, but to kill it."

Link opened his mouth to ask a question, but the tingling sensation he felt as Ghirahim ran his thumb across his lips stilled him.

"You yearn for it, sky child. The proof rests on your face." Link watched the tip of the demon's tongue slide out. "This is the first step toward claiming what you've aspired for for so long, sky child. Leave failure, self-doubt and guilt behind. Forget about your home. Forget about the people who care nothing for you. Forget about the mission that is fated to sink into the abyss of failure. Go above and beyond everything that you have ever planned or foreseen for yourself. Obtain the answers that you seek for every mystery that has haunted you for so long. You can accomplish what you've set out to do, but _better_."

Link's toes curled in restlessness. Strange gratifications and shadowy promises coerced him. A titillating prickle danced on his lips as the demon pulled inward.

"But maybe the one who you care for _does_ indeed return your affections, sky child." The demon lightly teased the side of Link's face. "Come and join with Midna without guilt."

Ghirahim's eyes flashed with an unspoken authority. Link felt like jumping out of his skin.

_Did he just...say her name?_

The word poured into Link's ears like nectar.

Why did the demon's touch feel almost...good?

"You will no longer feel the need to hold back," Ghirahim said enticingly. "Let her overmaster you, as you have longed for."

Torn in two directions, Link had nothing to say. Everything the demon was saying was ambiguous, yet it was attractive somehow.

But he was the enemy.

"Are you ready for a taste of what could be, sky child?" The demon moved, sitting between Link and the stalhound. He chuckled. "Somehow, I don't think you have much choice in the matter."

Link glanced at the excited, jittery stalhound. The demon did have a point.

"I can make this so easy for you." Ghirahim carefully took a handful of Link's hair. "Let me lift this burden for you."

More confused than before, wanted to break free, but didn't. He wanted to shove the demon's hands and face away and run. He wanted to hack away at what remained of the bony creature.

Yet, he knew that all of these things would get him nowhere.

Thoughts of Midna filled him. He shut his eyes, practically smelling the scent of roses in her silky red hair.

This terrible illness had never left him. He was so exhausted. His throat hurt even more now. He was so tired of everything that accepting the demon's help once more didn't seem like such a bad idea.

Link eyed the demon's mouth. He knew what the demon was going to do.

He really didn't want that tongue anywhere near him. Not after what happened earlier. But to have such keen senses... Link couldn't help but wonder.

Ghirahim tilted Link's head back, dividing his lips in one quick motion. Link's heart thumped.

The demon positioned himself accordingly, hanging just over Link's open mouth. He searched the worn out blue eyes in front of him before they closed with a tremble.

"Oh, don't worry, sky child," Ghirahim assured him. "I'll make this painless for you. Trust me, you won't regret it."


	6. Azrael Manor

_This chapter is has been rewritten. Don't mind the typos as I work to fix the errors._

Chapter 6

Azrael Manor

The incident in the woods—the quietus which would have held his voice hostage had he been able to speak to begin with. It dominated his thoughts as he walked toward town.

The moonless sky laughed at him. The sparsely placed trees swagged in merriment at his expense. The dead breeze frolicked about before slipping past him, ashamed to even brush the face of such a quisling. Even the mysterious choir of anguished voices seemed to be singing a song of ridicule over his accedence.

No one should ever derive that much pleasure from the suffering of another.

"Need I bend you anymore on the swage block, sky child?" Ghirahim asked as he walked. "Must I further forge you on the anvil, tempering and refining you to beautifully broken perfection?"

Link didn't look up or speak. Instead, he observed his feet as they followed his captor. Rips and tears of various sizes on his clothes mingled among the spattering of bokoblin blood and stalhound bone dust. It littered his shirt with evidence of the day's violent mishaps. The gash on his cheek burned, mired by dirt from the forest floor. His wispy blond hair flung itself in every direction and clung to his temples. His fever, along with all of the pain that had become his constant companion, was gradually returning.

"Did you enjoy that little game as much as I am led to believe, sky child?" Ghirahim leaned his head over his shoulder. "My curiosity is piqued. Did you take pleasure from that which I so generously granted you?"

Feeling the heaviness of the demon lord's stare, Link didn't lift his gaze from the road.

"Oh, that's right. Some cunning individual must have hit your mute button," Ghirahim said, almost giggling. "Is _that_ what my tongue swept against in the back of your throat? If so, I'm so sorry. Truth be told, I desired silence during the rest of our stroll. I hope you don't mind. It's only temporary, of course. But I must admit that your earlier reaction suggests that an apology on my part is superfluous."

Link stared blankly at the ground as he paced behind the demon. Earlier, he had considered the chain around his neck to be one of the most humiliating things he'd ever had to deal with. Now, he knew what humiliation truly was—

To walk at the demon lord's heels, free of all bonds, yet with a stronger desire to stay than to escape. Having already been made fun of for failing to run away twice, Link decided that it wasn't in his best interests to attempt a third escape. Who knew what could happen if he failed again?

"I suppose I will have to answer that question for you, then," Ghirahim sang, cheerfully spinning the Goddess Sword. "You did enjoy the learning process _and _your first venture outside of your range of competence—your foray, if you will. But which one excited you more? The jury is undoubtedly still out and deliberating, I must say."

Link gave a low sigh as he glanced to the side, as agitated by his inability to speak as he was by the glimmer of truth in the demon's teasing.

"You handled your heightened senses impressively well for a feeble human, if I may risk sounding as though I am pleased with something that you've done today."

Link kept pace with his captor. He tried to drown his negative thoughts in a sea of spirit-lifting memories of his best friends. He pictured the mild, aestival evening that he knew he was missing out on tonight. Colorful, bright illustrations of the carefree summer that should have been painted themselves in vivid frescoes on the walls of his mind. How did it come to this…?

He felt so ashamed for giving in to the demon. While he didn't submit easily, he still gave in. His irrefutable shortage of options did little to make him feel any less like a sellout. He could have forced his body, although greatly polluted with infirmities, to fight harder. Had he made the right decision to hand himself over, if only for a moment?

"Now that your appetite has been whetted, sky child, what will you choose to do? I believe you are rapidly approaching an impasse."

Link looked up with a glower. Ghirahim had been extremely clever and adept. Masterfully ingenious, in fact. He had chipped inconspicuously away at Link's rampart and squeezed through the meager opening like a fox. Link shook his head, angry at himself for allowing his enemy a foothold.

"When we were joined, hero, and your body waged war against your faltering mind, I noticed something." Link's ears, red-tipped and slumped in discomfiture perked up slightly. "While you were nearly consumed by sensation in its most profound sense—and don't claim that you were not—you did not yield."

Link didn't know what to think. Was everything that the demon was saying false? Could any of it be true?

The method in which the demon's power had been transmitted to him was horrible. Yet it was pleasant at the same time, as much as Link hated to admit it. After being so mistreated, even the hollow, feint touch of kindness from a demon was agreeable. He knew that the vituperative words and painful beatings had succeeded in covering him in a heavy pall of self-doubt. Anything that was not an insult or a blow was attractive, and the demon's offer had been just that. With his skin cut and stinging, his muscles aching from overwork and his ears nearly bleeding from indignities, even the idea of affection was tempting.

Tonight, Link felt like a candle, tragically burnt from both ends and left to melt into a puddle of pliable matter.

"Or did you, sky child?" Ghirahim asked, interrupting Link's thought. "Did you truly stand firm against what I gave you? Or did you surrender in the heat of the moment?" Link didn't look at him. "Do you even remember, hero?"

Link did not, and it left him disconcerted.

What little he did remember was vivid, yet partly ambiguous. He sighed heavily, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He recalled feeling good. Too good…

He had expected it even before taking that long, snakelike appendage into his mouth, and that's what made him feel so terrible for submitting. He had resisted, but he could have fought more vigorously. He felt like he'd betrayed his principals. He had allowed his frustrations, his pain, his illness and his mental exhaustion to take his discretion.

Worse yet, even though Link couldn't wrap his mind around it, he suspected that curiosity was partially to blame.

Guilt began to manifest itself. He tried to uphold his denial, but the memory of letting his physical wants take precedence over prudence was far too fresh in his mind.

From the second that he had permitted himself to be overtaken, he was besieged by an indescribable pleasure. When the union was made, he was filled with ecstasy. The discomfort afflicting every inch of his insides was extinguished by the demon's energy.

With a throat as parched as the desert, Link felt something akin to a cold mountain spring spill into his mouth. The insipid chill that had flooded his bones since the Faron Woods was plucked from his system like a weed. The inflamed puncture wound on his arm no longer hurt. The sting in his face all but disappeared. Pain was sucked from places on his body that he didn't even know he had. The relief that he felt was unlike any feeling he had ever experienced.

He remembered squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath as he took the feeling in. He felt dirt under his fingernails as he scratched the ground. His feet felt tight in his boots as his toes curled. He recalled a lightening as his body seemed to lift. A long exhalation turned into a soft groan which he couldn't help. His body begged for more, unable to get enough. His hands rose out of the dirt and toward the one responsible for rewarding him with such an unfathomable feeling…

Then he felt the soft red velvet.

"Trying to remember, are we?" Ghirahim inquired. Startled, Link looked up. "Well, good luck, sky child. But I think you'll find that the majority of your experience cannot be fully retrieved. It was never encoded or stored in the first place. Such is life as a lowly human with limited brainpower."

Link looked down at the road once more.

The demon was correct in that most of what Link had seen and done just minutes earlier had eluded his memory cache; but, thanks to his episodic memory which served as a mnemonic trigger, the remnants left in the wake of his emotion and sensation were revealing in their own ways. Even if Link couldn't recall exactly what he had done, he was still able to remember how he had felt during that time, at least for the most part.

Old memories were dredged up and extracted from his brain. Something new was put in their place. Vague recollections from his past were swapped with a foreign endowment. Discontentment and empowerment coexisted within him for a few seconds as the former was replaced with the latter.

Link's parents came to mind—two people whom he had never been able to remember in detail. The single fact that he had always known, however, was that they had rejected him at a very young age. Because of them he had been thrust into the cold grip of an orphanage in the small village of Ordon. Loneliness accompanied the tail end of the short memory of his parents.

Link's thoughts shifted to a boy; a taller, older boy with no basis for befriending him beyond sheer pity, for the lonely wretch before him could only seem to find a friend in one other person—a little blonde girl.

Link never understood why Pipit had done it, but he had. He filled a void within Link that had been created when his father had deserted him. Perhaps it was because Pipit understood how it felt and what it meant to not have a father. Maybe Pipit had been searching for a way to fill his late father's shoes, and an opportunity just happened to cross his path in the form of a discarded, stuttering, sandy-haired little kid. Perhaps Pipit wanted to try his hand at patronage in its purest form.

Now that Link was older, he realized that whatever Pipit's rationale happened to be, he had sewed the gaping wound of repudiation. Zelda, as invaluable as she was, would never have been able to mend it.

The strange dynamic of his and Pipit's relationship filled Link's mind during his joining with the demon—the trend of being closer than brothers, but not family; they were equals, yet the older held unspoken authority over the younger. This attribute of their relationship was something that neither boy realized in childhood. Link was only now beginning to see it. All he knew was that he had a certain respect for Pipit, stemming from his appreciation for his best friend's commitment toward him that had begun years before they had come to Skyloft. The brotherhood that existed between the two was abstract, perhaps cryptic, and sometimes appeared to others as more of a liaison than a friendship.

Pipit had his flaws, as did Link, but they were there for each other just the same.

Why was the demon so determined to undermine their friendship? It was true that the two had hurt each other in the past. In recent days they had overstepped some boundaries and had parted ways on less than favorable terms. But still...

Tension and confusion regarding Pipit was not the only component of Link's concerns to be drawn out. Regret over Zelda and Midna surfaced as well.

Link took another deep breath of dusty air. The demon couldn't possibly have been right about his choice…

While still in the demon's embrace, Link tried to keep his excitement for being pain-free under wraps. He twisted beneath his enemy, regret of every shape and size warping his cognition. Remorse for things long past rose to the forefront. His eyes wavered as he saw vapors of a yellow hue ascending into the air.

Hearing the demon's words telepathically, Link learned that the swirling yellow was his own fear made visible.

Extrasensory perception—a hidden skill which Ghirahim was awakening.

The energy of the two joined bodies escalated. Every one of Link's senses reached their peaks, becoming so intensely keen that the power was barely containable within him.

Beleaguered then and now, all Link could remember was being left with a jumble of memory debris. But one last recollection remained with him.

When the transfer was complete, Link felt light as a feather and as indestructible as steel. He felt as fantastically powerful as Ghirahim had promised. It flowed through his veins, making him twist and turn. With the electric charge pleading to be released, the demon pulled back, leaving Link gaping in astonishment. Gasping for air, he was hauled to his feet.

He remembered being veiled with gold. He held his hands in front of his face and stared at their curious lambency. He looked at the demon again, feeling renewed strength flow from his fingers to his toes.

The demon, powerful and authoritative, put forth no yellow glow. Instead, red smoke floated around him, escaping from his every pore with tremendous vigor.

The last picture that Link's fractured memory held was his captor looking at him with such intensity that it nearly made his blood curdle. The demon's chin dropped and his sable eyes sharpened. A sinister smile formed on his lips. His head rocked with eagerness. His milky hair swerved to reveal the diamond below his eye.

Motionless, Link stood, awaiting his instruction. Ghirahim was terrifying but Link needed him. The second that he heard the demon urge him onward, he approached the stalhound.

Sensation took over then, leaving Link with no knowledge of the act that he had committed. All he knew was how it made him feel. An explosion of energy left him absolutely breathless. Energy and wind fulminated outward. Tremors shot through his feet and into the ground. Incredible amounts of tension escaped through his hands. It was a glorious reprieve.

The feeling was short-lived, but was more than enough to bring Link to his knees. The gruesome deed was done, but he couldn't remember it. All he knew was that he wanted more. He felt his hands clench and tremble. The strong yet pleasant tingling was almost too much to bear. His hands hit the forest floor.

Exotic energy circulated through him as he clutched the hard ground. Struggling for breath, Link marveled at the potency of this new feeling. It was almost orgasmic, especially in the way that it left him throbbing in its aftermath.

Link didn't need to see the demon to know that he was being closely watched.

"I must say, sky child," Ghirahim said, catching Link's divided attention once more, "it truly has been quite some time since I've played eyewitness to something so…" Ghirahim's voice lowered as he took a moment to ponder. Link cocked his head in curiosity as he waited for the demon to finish his thought. "…Phenomenal," he finally said. "Prodigious…preternatural, perhaps… A true rarity. I suppose I _am_ rather pleased with what you've done today." He walked ahead with a spring in his step. Link looked away. He skipped quickly ahead, trying not to lag behind.

"Do you remember tearing that beast apart with your bare hands?" Ghirahim looked to the side. "So savage, so unmerciful, so absolutely beautiful." Link bit his lip and looked aimlessly into the distance. "Do you remember the sound, hero? Please tell me you remember the sound." Link could only watch as the demon tossed his sword back and forth.

"The cracking as the bones were viciously fragmentized. The echoing tears as that terrified beast was split into two, then three, then four as you unseamed every last piece from its rotting frame…" The demon chuckled. "The heartwarming crush as you disunified that beast from its existence, ripped its head from its body, shattered its meager spirit and cast its soul into the depths of oblivion. Music, sky child. Such gorgeous music. Far finer and more perfect than anything you could ever produce on that silly violin of yours. Simply enthralling, that cruel, sadistic death that you brought about without this weapon…"

Link was beginning to understand why Ghirahim so adored violence. The more pain and suffering he caused, the more pleasure he gained.

What a peculiar and dangerous design. And for a few moments, Link knew that he'd compromised his knighthood to take part in it. In something—

"—_Inhuman_, sky child!" Ghirahim sang, pivoting. "Are you not proud of yourself, hero?" he asked, walking backward. Link responded with a blank stare. The demon laughed, crossing his arms behind his back and keeping his pace steady. "And do you know what else, sky child?" Link heaved a sigh.

"Now I know why your little girlfriend believes you to be a good kisser." Link's face heated up. "As you thirstily drank down what I was kind enough to give you, as you imbibed and embraced me, I was taken aback by your fervency." Link squared his shoulders uneasily and looked around. He knew that he had welcomed what the demon had done, but surely he was embellishing…

"What if your lady friend knew that you were pawing desperately at another, hero?" Link opened his mouth to speak but remembered that he was unable. "What if she heard the less than innocent things that rolled off of your tongue in that superheated moment? In the heat of fusion?" Link grimaced, frustrated that he couldn't deny what was being said. Most of what he remembered was feeling and sensation, not what he had done. Or said.

"Do you know what you asked for, sky child?" Ghirahim held his hands out. Link looked at him with dread. He didn't want to hear it. Ghirahim leaned forward with a joyful chortle. "I said, do you know what the Goddess's chosen hero asked the Demon Lord for?" Link refused to let go of the belief that the demon was dissembling a different reality than what had actually happened in the woods. Still, he expected to hear something terrible.

"Well, how about I let the idea stew in your little imagination for a while? You never know. You might be able to tell your little lady yourself soon." Link glared, unsure of who or what to be angry at.

"The way I see it, hero, you've got a choice to make. Soon. Do you know what that oh-so-important decision is yet? Or do I have to tell you? I sincerely hope that you've got more brainpower in that asinine head of yours."

Link knew, all right...

"Ah, the lovely town of Acheron," Ghirahim announced over his shoulder. "Feels like it took quite a while to get here. Why _is_ that?" He hummed to himself. "Absorb the view, hero. This is the last of what you will be seeing of this realm…for now."

Set under a sky as black as coal, the perimeter of the town was ablaze with torches. They were tall, sending the tips of the flames dancing over the surrounding wall. The vermillion glow spilled onto the dusty road, revealing a stone pathway leading to the town's only entrance: a guarded doorway, fortified by a heavy iron-barred gate.

More of the same gnarled trees lined the path, stretching their gangly branches toward the human once again.

Shadows danced on the pair's faces as the flames flickered and waved above their heads. A distant, demonic howl from a far-flung place almost made Link jump out of his skin. He narrowly spared himself the demon's ridicule. Link ran his hand through his messy hair, swallowing against the lump in his throat. In this place there was simply no telling what could happen.

The only sound to fill the night air as the two advanced was the pattering of shoes on limestone. Link lagged behind. The top of his head barely reached the demon's forearm. Being a person of modest stature, it was normal for him to feel short around most people. In the presence of the demon, however, he felt downright small.

As they stepped up to the gate, the loud, panicky ring of jingling keys burst forth. Soon, the gate was being pulled inward by its keeper. He promptly bent forward in a deep, deferential bow. Link watched as the being, similar in stature to Ghirahim but clothed in a black gatekeeper's uniform, placed his long arm across his chest. He dropped his head.

"Lord Ghirahim," he said in a jittery voice, his eyes to the ground. Stepping through the latticed gate, Ghirahim turned his head to the gatekeeper and nodded in acknowledgment. Link followed behind. The demon at the gate remained as still as a figurine as they passed.

The two followed the cobblestone path. The main path forked to the left and right, trailing through gardens nestled along the twenty-foot stone wall.

Light from the flames reflected off of what Link saw. It was as amazing as it was puzzling: fruit-bearing trees of an unknown sort with a generous scattering of flowers and shrubs. Link's brow rose at the realization that actual lifewas contained within these walls.

He looked up, taking in the visual of a vacant night sky. It offered the town no starlight.

The path widened, giving way to two six-story watchtowers. They seemed to be guarding an entryway. The tall red spires on tip of them made them even more imposing.

Link's empty hands hung down as he walked, restless and longing for his only means of protection. He looked at the Goddess Sword again. The demon had it tucked under his arm.

Passing through the two stone giants and the burning lanterns which accompanied them, the pair entered the town square.

"Acheron Square," Ghirahim said simply.

Link's eyes grew as he stepped into the energetic hub of activity.

Like the walls of the town, the stone shops and houses circling the square were accompanied by iron street lamps. An innumerable amount of stone-built homes bordered the heart of the town, stretching into the darkness. Jutting out of the urban landscape was a baronial mansion. It overtopped every building within view. Somehow, Link knew where they were headed.

Dozens, perhaps hundreds of demons darted every which way in the warm night air.

"Azrael Manor awaits, sky child," Ghirahim said over his shoulder.

_Oh great, the 'angel of death's' house_, Link thought.

The loud murmur and sporadic movement of the mob began to ease. All heads turned to face the demon and his human companion.

Stepping out of Ghirahim's path, every man, woman and child bowed down. Link felt a chill course through him as the din gave way to eerie silence. He gasped as a hand pulled him back.

"These people know who you are, sky child," Ghirahim spoke in his ear. Link looked around the crowd. "While we are here you will walk at my side like the good, reverential slave that you are. For you to not show me my due respect would be terribly _déclassé_ of you, and I would be highly displeased. Besides that, there isn't one single soul here who doesn't see you as the world's guiltiest heretic. If you have any sense you will remain aviseful of your actions, or I just might throw the ravenous dogs a juicy piece of meat."

Grimacing, Link tried to avoid brushing against the demon's side, but failed. He felt curious eyes all over him.

It took three long minutes for Link and his escort to cross the town square. The stares of many tried to drag Link down.

As his feet touched the cobbled pathway leading to the residential section of town, Link sighed. The demons' reproving looks were far worse than any beating he could imagine.

He was grateful for the darkness veiling the pathway. Street lamps became fewer as they traveled further from the square. Tall metal torches gave way to wall-mounted oil lamps. They hung from the doorways of the modest two-story residences. A young laternarius dressed in dark clothes could be seen bouncing from one lamp to another, bearing a small hand-torch. Link watched as he relighted the expired lamps.

Darkness smothered Link like a layer of heavy wool. His eyelids grew heavy. His body supplicated for sleep.

Link didn't bother to look at faces as he passed people in the street. All he caught out of the corner of his eye were demons dropping to one knee. Some bowed.

Link's feet ached from all the walking. Why couldn't this powerful demon have just snapped his magical fingers and brought them to their destination?

Several long minutes passed. Fire flickered above them. Demons stopped what they were doing to genuflect. Link's feet bent and curved painfully over the uneven stonework beneath him. The far-off clamor dragged on. He looked ahead with no choice but to go on. The demon seemed bothered by nothing and pleased by everything.

Before long, a gatehouse came into view. Connected to the gatehouse, a smaller version of the town's enclosing wall ensured protection from unwelcome visitors.

The two stepped under the thick gate and beneath two large, ornate lamps. The demon lord gained immediate access from the guard.

The pair proceeded into an orchard, dark and uninviting in its bleakness. Link took a deep breath as he was led up the dirt pathway. The same splendid stone mansion that he had seen earlier loomed in the distance. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He thought about his sword again.

"This is it, sky child. Are you ready?"

Link craned his neck to view the building. Step after stone step brought him to the entrance.

Reaching the top, the pair walked under the carved archway of the mansion's grand vestibule. After crossing the passage they stopped at the door. Not bothering to be welcomed inside, Ghirahim pushed open the heavy wooden door, pulling Link along with him as he left the foyer behind.

As if a seismic event had befallen them, two male guards dressed in pale stately attire bent to the floor, their long white hair hanging around their shoulders.

Something on one of the walls within the entrance hall caught Link's eye. A flag with odd colors and foreign symbols hung proudly—a beautifully rich and elaborate tapestry. Before Link could study it he was jerked away.

Stepping through a door and into another part of the building, Link found himself inside of an immense rectangular room. He immediately recognized it as the great hall—the multifunctional center of the household.

As impressive as it was, the hall was nowhere near the level of grandeur of the oversized gallery in Ghirahim's residence. Still, it was just as busy; perhaps more so. Several servants, some demon, some bokoblin, rushed around the long parallel tables. A few stoked the fire in the fireplace. Others took on the never-ending task of cleaning and maintaining the grounds. Link wondered how in the world bokoblins of all creatures could be trained to work.

"As domesticated as they look, they have a volatile side, sky child," Ghirahim said, gesturing toward the large-nosed, big-bellied red beasts galumphing around the hall. Their plain, unadorned servant's clothes draped loosely over their muscular bodies. "They can become riled at a moment's notice, especially at the sight of a stray human. These beasts don't see your kind very often, and they are hardwired to pursue and to kill them when given the opportunity. You should already know this from your little trip in the Faron Woods. Keep a low profile, hero."

The demon bent to speak directly into Link's ear. As he clutched the back of his neck, Link gave a light gasp.

"I hear they especially like humans who are stupid enough to leave their weapons out of reach while they jump into ponds—naked." Link stared at the wall.

As soon as the demon lord's presence was known, everyone in the room fell to their knees. Link looked around, feeling strange.

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have an entire town, an entire kingdom_, _or perhaps an entire _world _get on their knees before you, sky child?" Link looked around the room. "You never know. It just might happen for you; if you choose correctly."

_What is that supposed to mean? _Link wondered. He sighed, missing his voice.

"Lord Ghirahim," a female demon said with her head low and urgency in her tone. "I will retrieve the Baron." She turned and headed past the screens passages dividing the hall from the kitchen and pantry. Link watched as the tall woman's white hair and cream-colored servant's dress flowed behind her until she disappeared into the stairwell at the end of the room.

As Link stood waiting with Ghirahim the servants tried to go about their business, but were hopelessly distracted by their lord.

Link looked up to the mountainously high ceiling. A multi-tiered crystalline chandelier hung from a long chain. Flames from the torches in the wall sconces made the shining stones glimmer and sparkle. The enormous, twinkling fixture reminded Link of a less pretentious version back home at the Lumpy Pumpkin.

"Ah! My lord, what brings you all the way to Azrael Manor?" a deep voice asked.

Jarred from his thought, Link looked refocused his attention. Another demon stood in front of him. He was slightly shorter than Ghirahim, with hair that reached well past his shoulders. Bending at the waist he held his arms out. His eyes stayed up to meet Ghirahim's. His attire was similar to demon lord's save for the diamond motif. Instead of red velvet, royal blue draped his shoulders.

Turning his pale face toward Link, his lips curled into a familiar grin. "And who do we have here?" His eyes were piercing "As if I didn't know." He chuckled, proudly tossing blue material over his shoulder. Link stepped back, unsure of what to think. The demon's head tilted curiously as he examined.

"_This_ is the enemy's hero?" he asked, his unimpressed look intermingling with a spiteful smile. "Well, she most certainly doesn't choose them based on looks, does she?"

Link's face dropped to take in his raggedy appearance. Dusty and bloodstained, he looked bad.

"Does he not talk?" the strange demon asked, wrinkling his slender nose and snickering.

"I believe our recent activities have left him speechless," Ghirahim said with a wink. "Sky child, meet Baron Azrael, lord of this manor and its estates, head of the baronial officers and autocrats, warrior, financier, political adviser and nobleman of the highest status in this realm."

Not knowing how to respond, Link simply nodded.

"You wouldn't know it but he's actually a contentious little brute," Ghirahim added. "Headstrong. Terribly insubordinate. But I would expect nothing less from the Goddess." He chuckled. "We've come to borrow your upper hall for a time."

"Ah, come to play?" the baron asked with a hungry look in his eye.

"Indeed. Our brave little friend has come a long way to show me who's boss." As both demons shared a mocking laugh, Link looked down, feeling his face redden.

"What in the world is that?" the baron asked, looking at the weapon in Ghirahim's hand.

"Do you not recognize it? I suppose it has been quite some time." Ghirahim flipped it around. "This is the hero's little toy, gifted by the enemy, of course. Apparently he's supposed to save the world with it. The same old rubbish."

"Ah. How delightful," the baron said.

"Yes. It has a certain old-world charm to it. Reminds me of someone else I used to know…" He grinned at Link. "…So long ago."

"Yes, I do believe this world has seen its fair share of blond, sword-wielding boys in cute green outfits," Azrael stated. "Does it really need to be graced by another?"

"A legitimate question. I must say, though, that I've enjoyed this millennium's model very much. He has a certain spice to him."

"Oh, don't they all!" the baron exclaimed.

"Oh," Ghirahim groaned as he stretched his arms to shake off the giggles. "The superimposed room awaits." He grabbed Link by the shoulder. "The honor of your presence is requested, baron. Perhaps in thirty minutes?"

Azrael grinned and planted his hands on his hips, exchanging a momentary glance with Link. "Wouldn't miss it."

Growing tired of being hauled around, Link jerked his shoulder out of the demon's hand. Suddenly realizing what he'd done, he glanced to the side, catching Ghirahim's amused face.

"So eager to put me in my place that you can't wait for the sparring ring?" Ghirahim asked.

An unexpected movement pulled Link's gaze away. He looked toward the stairwell.

Link blinked several times, bowled over by a flash of beauty. A woman stood leaning against the door frame. She seemed to be watching him in return.

Forgetting about the demon, Link's jaw fell as he looked at the woman's striking black hair. It was quite a contrast to all of the white hair that had practically left him snow-blind.

Link was startled by the feel of Ghirahim's hand on his back. In the time that it took to glance behind him and look back at the stairs, the mysterious woman had vanished.

"Let's fix this little 'mute' problem, shall we, hero?" Ghirahim asked, lugging the young man to the stairwell. Looking down, Link hoped to the Goddess that the demon's words didn't mean what he thought they meant.

"And about what we were discussing before you decided to go for a solitary jog in the woods," the demon said, "you got an '_A_'."


	7. The Stairwell

Chapter 7

The Stairwell

_If only I hadn't gotten sick. If only. I would've killed you. I don't care what sort of magic you have. I would've sent you into oblivion with the stalhound._

In Link's head mixed countless feelings, thoughts and emotions; mostly anger. Some, however, he didn't fully understand.

Scaling the dreary, winding stairwell that connected the manor's great hall to the second floor, Link glared at Ghirahim's back. His feet alternated between stepping and scrambling. Held around the wrist like a child, he ascended in the dark, urged on by the eager demon lord. His smile was hidden from Link's view. If the demon's outfit had not been made of pallid material, Link would barely have been able to see him.

The demon allowed Link's wrist to drop.

Covering his mouth with his fingers, Link rubbed vigorously, trying in vain to erase the feeling that the demon had left on him. While he was grateful to have the use of his vocal cords back, he would have been far happier had the demon opted for an alternative remedy. Not to mention that the first sound to leave his mouth had been a forced groan mixed with a heavy breath.

Although stifled, the involuntary hum had lurched itself free before he was able to stop it. It echoed faintly off of the stone walls, including the one which his back had been pressed to. Once again, he had been given a small, somewhat pleasant reprieve from his ailments. But that was all it was: short and temporary. It was evident that either Ghirahim could not—or would not—transmit the necessary power to bring him out of his malaise. It was also plain as day that the demon was all too willing to pounce gladly on every opportunity to encroach upon him, and his dignity.

The brief ordeal brought to Link's mind one of the last kisses he'd shared with Midna back home in his room. In that moment, however, he had been the one to drive _her_, although amorously, against the wall. At least he didn't have to feel bad about feeling good during _that_ encounter.

With a cringe, Link tried to fend off the realization that Ghirahim had locked lips with him, and thoroughly infringed upon his throat, for the third time that day. Not wanting to acknowledge such a dreadful thing, he continued to scrub at his lips with the back of his hand, feeling as though his efforts were merely smearing the filth around.

_"Well, if I could afford to have a hopelessly sex-addicted hero affixed to my side for eternity…"_

Stepping carefully so as not to trip in the darkness, Link winced at the demon's haunting words. He hoped to the Goddess that mythology's postulation that a human could become captivated by—and eventually obsessed with—a demon's touch was fallacious; an exaggeration. A shudder rushed through him as he considered the idea.

Terms such as satyriasis, nymphomania and sexual dependency materialized in his head. Scary words, indeed.

The notion of a human's propensity to become hypersexualized toward a demonic entity would not have been all that disturbing, save for the fact that Ghirahim had a way of making him feel…good.

_Ugh, _Link thought, his face twisting.

_Midna…. What about Midna? Am I addicted to her?_ Link thought. _I'd spent so many hours with her since we met at the party. I was having trouble keeping her off of my mind. I kept thinking about it. I would've shown up late for the Wing Contest if Pipit hadn't stopped me. And when I should've been heading out to look for Zelda, Midna and I_ were…. Link bit his lip. _Maybe I am._

While certain physical contact with the demon did take his pain away, it left in its wake awkwardness that far overfilled where his discomfort had been. Not worth it. He unquestionably would've rather been in agony than accepting the demon's aid.

Well, that's what he would have said, not even a day ago, had someone inquired as to what he would do in a situation such as this. But now, the unavoidable truth was that he had ceded; agreed to the demon's help. A most distasteful anodyne.

And it had worked. What Ghirahim had transferred to him in the woods had saved his life, while at the same time allowed him to tap into something remarkable. Link was perfectly aware, of course, that he had been set up to fail, but still. The striking memory of the event, in all of its phantasmal eeriness, hung in his mind.

Link's usual gentle nature notwithstanding, the demon had convinced him to do something that any sane human in Skyloft would have deemed barbaric. And it was fun—at the time, anyway, to rip that stalhound to shreds. It had been one of the greatest experiences he'd ever had to actually _see_ fear, either rising out of his own body or from his enemy's, and to utilize it somehow.

He was unsure as to how the whole process had worked; it confounded him to no end. It was further complicated by Ghirahim's own account of what happened. The entire 'experiment' that the demon had initiated was a conundrum; in all likelihood, not a completely unsolvable puzzle, but still a hard one to figure out.

Whether the demon had set out to disunite him from his humanity, force him to depend on demonic power, extract a higher level of respect from him, draw out feelings of indebtedness and appreciation, or simply just mess with him, Link knew that Ghirahim had a reason for doing what he did. Perhaps the demon wanted to accomplish all of the above.

And besides that, Link knew that it tied into the demon's all-important question, and his world-changing decision.

Link brooded as the lantern-lit corridor above them finally came into view. He was thankful for the upcoming light. This stairwell was too dismal. Present company wasn't helping.

Conflicting thoughts bombarded him in droves.

_Do my friends even miss me…_? he wondered.

"_Forget about your home. Forget about the people who care nothing for you."_

_That couldn't possibly be true. I don't care how much you've tried to make me doubt Midna. It doesn't matter if Pipit and I were at each other's throats before I came to the surface. And Fi being a double-crosser…how stupid._

"_You were not built for heroship…You would never last a week…You know that you're a failure."_

_You really think that?_

"_Obtain the answers that you seek for every mystery that has haunted you for so long. You can accomplish what you've set out to, but far __better... You have the aptitude to influence my judgment over you depending on what you choose."_

_Lofty promises this guy makes. What does all of it even mean?_

"_You will learn more about the spirit maiden's affairs in time."_

_I want to see her so bad. We've never been apart this long._

"_You may call me your tormentor. I will leave you so gobsmacked, so gutted, so completely and utterly ashamed of your very person and everything that you've ever done in your pitifully incomplete life that __if __you walk away from here, your pathetic compilation of pride will __not __be following you."_

_Well, there's no question that you accomplished the first. I've been awed, gutted and ashamed. But you still haven't broken me._

Abhorrence and hostility had been the dominant forces in Link's mind for too long. He hated feeling this way. On top of his unpleasant state of mind, which he had always urged Fi to help him avoid, like any isolated victim, he was conflicted.

Having been trounced all evening, beaten down in multiple ways and brought lower at times than he had ever dreamed possible, he had witnessed the manifestation of his own resilience. Wishing to keep his pride at bay, he was almost willing to admit that he was impressed with himself.

His life had turned into a pandemonium in more ways than one; not only during his time in the demon realm, but in the Faron Woods. It was disorder; a change so drastic from his tranquil life in Skyloft that, by all accounts, he had every right to go insane. Yet he hadn't.

Was it normal for him to be…happy in some way?

Not happy that he had been subdued over and over again and showed the meaning of humility—not to mention suffering—but that so far he'd risen back up like a buoy. He somehow had managed to keep himself afloat in a sea of misfortune.

_Unbreakable spirit…._

It had been one debacle after another. Countless times, he thought he was going to die—that his life was going to be wiped out.

_He could have slit my throat with my own razor. He could have snapped my neck the first time I talked back. When I ran and he chased me, he could've followed through with every one of his threats. I was sure he was going to. His words weren't Hylian but I knew what he meant. He promised I would taste pain and death tonight. I believed him._

And the night wasn't over. The demon was beyond treacherous; the creator of brinkmanship. Link could feel that he was going to bring it to a whole new level.

Whilst delighting in Link's discomfort and misery throughout the evening, the demon had been careful to preserve him; to allow him to remain intact. He _had_ been his tormentor, but also his protector, and in some small way, his teacher.

Link was himself an island in a vast and dangerous ocean. And this demon had been his only companion.

And his strange affection.… Link swallowed, trying not to shudder in repugnance at the inexplicable inclination that Ghirahim had toward touching him and making him feel—

_What is he trying to do, anyway?_ Link winced. _Well, I think I do know what he's trying to_ do. The only one that he wanted that close to him was Midna. He _thought_, anyway.

_The term 'personal space' must not exist in_ _his vocabulary._

Link rubbed his eyes for a moment as he stepped, thoughts of all kinds racing through his head.

_All I need is to disprove one of your lies. Just __one, and I'll have no qualms with not believing anything you say._

Link sighed. A minor case of the jitters, something that he was always subject to in the moments before a fight, started forming in his stomach. Or maybe it was just his emptiness.

Link was famished, but he refused to gripe and whine about it to the demon. He was nauseous and lightheaded. It was probably due more to the extreme thirst which had developed over the course of several hours rather than hunger. How he was going to fare in battle, he couldn't even guess.

Even if this place hadn't been the most arid place he'd ever visited, the need for water would have been just as real. As it were, this place was the opposite of Skyloft, with its fresh, warm air, mixed to perfection with the ideal amount of humidity.

The air in this realm was enough to make a human's lungs shrivel up. This place promised nothing but death for a human. Link didn't know how much longer he could linger here.

With his eyes downcast, he took one last step before knocking squarely into his leader. He gasped and lifted his head. He stepped back as Ghirahim turned smoothly around. Looking into his face, Link saw an odd glint in his eye. The demon looked him up and down.

Link turned away, feeling self-conscious. "What…?" he asked, his gaze slowly rising.

With a twist of his pale lips, Ghirahim stepped down, startling Link with his sudden approach. Placing his hands over Link's upper arms, he pushed them against his sides. He drove him against the wall once more, but this time, more gently.

Link eased back and tilted his head, giving Ghirahim an edgy look. His teeth grinded and his shoulders curled. _Now what does he want…? _His tired eyes bounced back-and-forth. Even though he knew what the demon lord was capable of, and despite the likelihood of being violated, he found himself to be less afraid than he once was.

"You are _lucky_, sky child," Ghirahim stated in a low voice, his mouth far too close.

Link had grown accustomed to this position, so he simply stared back. "Uh, why?" His eyes shifted around.

The demon grinned. "I would quickly push away this naturalistic fallacy of yours that my tongue in your mouth is the most repulsive thing in existence." He inched closer.

Link looked at him strangely. "Uh, what—"

"Something _far worse_ could have happened in this stairwell, sky child." Link eyed his surroundings once more, curious. "Are you aware of that, human?" Link just nodded. Something far worse could _always_ happen. That was the standard state of being when in the presence of the Demon Lord Ghirahim.

"I don't doubt it," Link answered.

"Something so good, it's painful. Unbearable, in fact."

"…What is?" Link asked, confused.

"What I can't do, sky child," Ghirahim said. "Like I said, you're lucky." He stepped closer, released Link's arms and brought a gloved hand to the side of his face, almost close enough to touch his skin. Link began to shy away. Ghirahim's lips arched into a cool grin as he rocked his head and chuckled. He stared at Link's mouth. His chin nudged forward.

"I believe you," Link said quietly.

The demon's eyes came up to meet him. "I wonder, sky child…"

"…What?" Link asked with a morbid curiosity. He knew he shouldn't be asking. He didn't want to incite him.

"How you would handle yourself."

"With what?" Link asked, his eyebrows curving with concern.

"How tough are you, sky child, truly? Could you, in all of your ridiculous frailty, bear the awe-inspiring sensation, survive through the overwhelming ecstasy, travail the _rhapsody_ which I would so willingly thrust upon you under different circumstances?"

That was quite the question. Link just gaped at the demon, and swallowed. Hard.

"You need not answer that right now," Ghirahim said, admiring Link's parted lips.

They both stood before each other, still and quiet. Link was about to speak, but Ghirahim shook his head to silence him. "Don't deny it, sky child. You're already reasonably comfortable with me. Or are you not conscious of it?" Link began to mumble and shake his head, hoping to the Goddess that this conversation would end soon.

"Ah, a little tongue-tied, I see," Ghirahim said, looking pleased. "Well, relax hero. I await your consent with bated breath. Like I said, you're _lucky_."

Link paused again. "Why?" he finally asked.

"That I've got something holding me back." The demon's voice was low and harsh. "If I were the proprietor, oh, the story would be far, far different." His dark eyes burned, sparing Link no discomfort. With a smile, he turned his head to the side, brushing Link's lips in the process. Their eyes stayed together. Link shivered, not wanting to hear or feel any more.

Ghirahim snatched Link's arm and pushed him up the last few stairs to the second floor. Taking a gander at everything around him, Link was amazed.

Ghirahim stepped up beside him. "To the champagne room," he said with a wily grin.

Link turned his face up to the demon, his eyes looking surprised. "The _what_?"

"Come on, sky child," Ghirahim sang, seizing him by the crook of his arm.

….

Marching down stone corridor after stone corridor, Link promptly came to the conclusion that floor two of Azrael Manor was more labyrinthine than the Skyview Temple. The structure of the floor might have been a grid, but there were _so_ many passageways, not to mention a myriad of rooms. Amazingly, the demon lord seemed to know exactly where he was going. Link was sure, however, that if the need arose to find his own way out of here, he'd have to rely on happy chance to escape.

The pair traveled down one last walkway. The walls were lined by bright oil lanterns.

Link was able to catch a passing view through a window. Stretching to look, he saw the Acheron townscape. Aglow, it sat beneath the darkest night sky he'd ever seen. The sight was unnatural yet oddly serene at the same time.

It was so quiet out there…

"_Here_ we are!" Ghirahim said with gusto, causing Link to yank his head away from the small window. The demon smiled widely at his semi-bewildered companion, sounding as if he was beside himself with happiness. Link's gaze floated from his captor to the huge wooden door before him. He looked at the bulky metal handle on the right side. His sharp ears caught a subtle drift of female voices. They were coming from within the lateral room.

Link froze in place. _What the...?_

Not bothering to hide his sardonic laughter, Ghirahim took hold of Link's shoulder, leaned forward and pulled on the door handle. As soon as the door swung inward, Link was shoved inside. The room was exceptionally well lit, full of lanterns, full of candles, and full of…women.

Link's jaw dropped. All friendly chatter ceased as every face turned toward him. They looked as surprised as him. As Ghirahim stepped alongside, every lady's snowy white head bowed. They were scattered among several small wooden tables along the wall. Link felt a face appear next to his right ear. He hopped aside.

"Take some time to…_freshen up_ before our match, sky child. I downright repudiate the idea of you using either hunger or thirst as an excuse to lose. And…" He leaned over with his hands clasped behind his back. "…enjoy yourself, hero," he said with a smirk and a wink. Link's head came forward, a dumbfounded expression coming over him.

Placing his hands on his hips, the demon stood up straight, his tall stature nearly bringing the crown of his head to the low-lying ceiling. His smile only got bigger as he prepared to address the ladies. Link's eyes shot around the room, spotting clear and present danger in the form of eight beautiful female demons.

"As is made apparent by his ragged appearance, this human could use a little TLC, ladies," Ghirahim said congenially. Each and every pretty face bashfully rose to look at him. Link's head slowly turned to him as well. "Most of all, he could use some _new clothes_," he said with plenty of cheerful emphasis. Link looked down for a moment, his mouth falling open a bit. "I'll be back in about thirty minutes. So, until then," he said, giving a small, debonair bow, "enjoy, ladies."

With one final, joyful glance, Ghirahim twirled around, the red fabric around his shoulders flowing elegantly as he stepped through the door. He shut it tightly behind him.

Link stood as still as a bronze figure for a few moments, wondering why in the world Ghirahim had left him alone. The silence in the room smacked him in the back of the head as he felt sixteen eyes feeding off of him all at once. He took a deep breath, knowing that he would eventually have to turn around.

Link hoped with all of his strength that the age-old saying was true: There's no sex in the champagne room.

Upon rotating cautiously, he slowly, slowly scanned the small area before him.

Women…everywhere… They were all a good deal taller than him, too. And they were staring at him. He wasn't sure who was going to make the first move. He had no idea what they were going to do. Why were they looking at him like that?

_Should I just run_? Chewing his tongue for a few seconds, Link sighed and fretfully rubbed the back of his neck. _Was I better off with the nut job?_

"Um…" he began, his eyes jumping from one face to the next, "hi?" He stood waiting for the gawking ladies to say something.

Then, like a gaggle of hungry geese, every lady began jumping to their feet and gathering together, exclaiming excitedly. Link's eyes popped open as he leaped into a battle stance. He would have reached behind his back for the hilt of the Goddess Sword if it had been in its rightful place.

Each woman, dressed in a formfitting, beige linen dress which was almost as pale as her skin was moving toward him with a gigantic smile on her face. Link put his hands out in front of him as sixteen long, shapely legs came rushing at him.

Before he could do anything at all, Link was completely surrounded by slender, reaching arms, grabbing hands, and supple shoulders which were left uncovered by strapless tops. Their skirts were far too short for his liking, and their chests of varying sizes were right at eye level, suffocating him and making him wish he was either much taller, or very, very short.

Silky, alabaster braids, ringlets and ponytails swept his face as he looked into their faces. With so many keyed-up voices jabbering at once, Link couldn't hear himself think. He tried to tell them he couldn't breathe but they weren't interested. He felt hands start to tug roughly at his bloodied, slashed shirt. He jerked and curled up. Never before had he wanted so badly to keep such dirty clothing on his body.

"No! You don't need to—" he started to say, but it was no use. Within seconds, his shirt was gone, leaving him half-naked in a room full of rapacious women.

_I was definitely safer with the nut job!_

With over a dozen hands making short work of the remainder of his clothes, Link shouted, shoving his way through the voracious crowd. Once on the outside, he turned toward the wound up huddle. Still beaming, the ladies turned their attention in his direction.

"Look, I really—" he called with his hands out, but he stopped short. His eyes landed on something—a ninth woman.

She stood in a far corner, leaning against the stone. Similar to the other ladies, she was quite tall and lean. But her clothing was different. Instead of a short, revealing taupe dress, she wore a long-sleeved uniform. The soft fabric was a brilliant burgundy, trimmed with jet black around the bottom and cuffs. A black leather belt hugged her trim waist. Link viewed her long legs, covered tautly in black linen. Looking at her feet, he saw a pair of sturdy black warrior's boots.

Even from across the room, Link could tell that she was gorgeous; outstandingly so. Her skin was pale, but not as pasty as the other demons'. While many of the females seemed to be wiry, she certainly wasn't. She had a small-frame, but a pleasantly curvaceous figure. Her rounded chest was trying its hardest to bust through the top of her uniform much like Midna's always did.

She pulled herself from the wall and began walking toward him. He stepped back as she drew nearer. He studied her face. She had large, round, radiant green eyes, full pink lips and a small, svelte nose. A tiny beauty mark sat under her left eye. Several loops of gold dressed her pointed ears.

But the most eye-catching of her features was her hair: it was full, wavy and extremely black; as black as the darkest sky on a starless night.

_Wow…_

Skyloft was full of extraordinarily beautiful women. Midna topped them all of course, at least in his opinion.

But this woman—her beauty was dissimilar to anything he had ever seen at home or in the demon realm. It was positively singular.

The mysterious woman in the wine-colored uniform stepped proudly up to him, her eyes landing on his bare chest and trailing down to his feet. Link looked around for a moment, unsure of what to say or do. He simply stared back.

She took a breath, raised her arched eyebrow and turned to look at the mass of women behind her. She lifted her hand, her fingers spreading slightly. "That will be all," she said calmly, her medium-toned voice glossy and sleek.

Every excited face instantly fell. Looks of dejection appeared everywhere. Link watched, confused but grateful. This strange woman was helping him.

Exchanging a multitude of glum looks, the ladies ceased their merry banter and shrugged to one another. One by one, they headed to the door. Link continued to watch silently as each woman exited. The last slammed the door behind her.

The pair stood alone in the hushed room. The black-haired beauty turned her face to Link again. He stood up taller in an attempt to look more presentable, but he only made himself feel silly. He was half-nude, after all, and as grubby as a little kid who'd just rolled in a mud puddle. He could feel the weight of the woman's eyes as she scrutinized him once more.

Trying to be friendly and to show his gratitude, he gave a weak, tight-lipped smile.

She cocked her head. "Well, be still my beating heart," she said as she placed a hand over her chest, her face exuding as much sarcasm as her voice. Link flinched a bit at her coarse attitude. The woman smirked, shifting her feet and crossing her arms. Her fingers flurried playfully. "They were just doing their jobs, you know." She gestured toward the door. "They normally take care of the men before they head out for a big match. It's customary in this barony. In most others, as well. Some unlucky men never see the light of day again, so it's their last right to go-as-they-please, so to speak...

"But, one thing is the same no matter where you go: the women always go ballistic over human men." Her eyes ran up and down Link's body.

Normally proficient in reading other people, he had a difficult time making sense of her.

"Some of them are my step-father's concubines," the woman added. Link looked at her. Curiosity flooded him. "Yes, my step-father is Azrael," she said, her head tipping with nonchalance. Her eyes kept dropping down as she gave him the once-over…and the second…and the third. He wrapped his arms around himself.

"I bet you're wondering what those women were so excited about," she said with a glimmer in her emerald eyes. "Judging by that mazed look on your face, anyway." Link simply listened, keeping a close eye on this odd female. "Actually, I'm willing to bet you've got a lot of questions about this place.

"I also have access to everything that your weary body needs, from food, to water, to a hot, soothing bath. I'd be willing to help, of course, if you do what I want…" Link offered her nothing but a wordless response, feeling as though he was about to be preyed upon by a dominatrix. His expression stiffened.

_If she thinks I'm a coward, she's got another thing coming…_

"And yes, I know exactly who you are…" she said in a quiet voice, stepping toward him, her arms still crossed. Link's head came up. She gave him a pert grin. "…The enemy's chosen hero." Link looked her in the eye as she stood directly in front of him. She was at least six feet tall, about three inches taller than him.

"At your service…" Link stated with a small, polite bow.


	8. Talk of War

_*Kehia Island is a place mentioned/visited in the prequel, just FYI._

Chapter 8

Talk of War

"Poor little hero lost his way? My, that's too bad." The raven-haired woman, elegant and refined, circled like a vulture as she spoke. "I'd like to know how it came to be that this hero of legend was so outdone, and so _undone_ by his opponent." With arms folded neatly, her eyes remained fixed on Link, tugging at him as she crossed in front. As she slipped behind him, he turned his head and lowered his gaze. His fingers coiled and fanned as he kept an eye on her, distrusting her every move.

Pacing the floor, she glided behind once more before settling in front of him. She shifted onto one foot. A look of astuteness overtook the curiosity on her face. Link watched as her irises sparkled devilishly.

She examined him once more, staring at him so shrewdly that he could feel her green eyes cutting right through what little clothing he had left. A standoffish expression masked his ambivalence. He observed her as she added a sly grin to her already wily face.

"I'll tell you what," she said, her neck swaying lightly as she looked into his eyes, "you give me what I want, I'll give you what you need." Her grin broadened, showing a flash of bright teeth. "And what do I want?" Link remained stationary, listening hard to her words. "For you to give me a reason to respect you. Because right now, I don't have one. And I don't help those whom I don't respect." Link watched her tongue twist around. He hoped she wasn't as good at reading him as her parlous aura seemed to suggest.

"Time runs short for you, hero. I suggest that you comply. What do you say? Can you earn my respect?" The woman tapped her foot. "Come on. Let's talk for a minute. Then maybe you can eat something…" Her tone was seductive. She came nearer. "And drink as much water as you need to hydrate that mouth, which appears to be more parched than the Lanayru Desert itself—in its driest season." Link shut his mouth, refusing to let on that her honey-tongued words were affecting him. He was by far more hungry and thirsty than he'd ever been.

"I can tell just by looking at you that you won't talk unless I introduce myself. I guess I can play your little game." She paused. They both looked at each other.

"So," she began, loosening her arms and holding them behind her back, "I'm sure you're wondering what my name is." Not ready to start talking to this coquettish woman, Link kept quiet.

"Okay," she said, "it's Lilith."

Blinking, Link mentally sketched the woman's face. He logged her name in his memory, determined to never forget. "I bet you're wondering why I don't look like everyone else around here," she said, twisting at the waist and running her hands under her dark hair. Link watched as it caught the lamplight with a shimmer. "Any guesses?"

His eyes sank to her feet before rising again.

She snickered softly. "Not very perspicacious, are you?" she asked. "Or intuitive. Not much of a creative thinker?" Link's face slackened as he sighed. "Looks like I'm gonna have to hand you everything, aren't I? Silly thing." She placed her hands on her slim hips and tilted her head. "Well, here's the answer you seek: I'm not a demon, per se. At least not fully." Link was struck by a bolt of wonder. "We have something in common, hero. My father was a human."

Link was floored by the unexpected information. He looked at her black hair again. But he was skeptical. If there was one thing he'd learned tonight it was that being anything other than wary was stupid. Falling for the skullduggery of a female demon sounded just as bad, if not worse than being duped by the demon lord.

"I know you've formed an overprompt opinion of me. Your knowledge is insufficient, though, so get rid of it." She stepped closer. "And I do believe you're staring at my uniform." She stood up proudly, puffing her chest out a bit. "Wondering what I do for a living?"

Link stepped back, perturbed by her forwardness. "Well, here's one thing I can assure you of," she said. "I do it far better than you." He spotted a two-bar gold insignia below her left shoulder. It glimmered in the flickering light, contrasting the scarlet fabric that it sat on.

"I'm a soldier, human," she said, "and have been for sixty-five years."

Link observed her, paying extra attention to her youthful appearance. She looked to be about the same age as him. She couldn't possibly be that old.

"Captain Lilith at _your_ service, hero," she said with a small curtsy, batting her thick eyelashes. "Company commander works just as well. I command a company of one-hundred-and-fifty archers; crossbowmen and long bowmen. We're part of a much larger regiment, and we specialize in cavalry-archery tactics." She proceeded to close the gap between them that Link had made. "Do you even know what that means, Skyloftian?"

"No," Link said, disliking the censure in her voice.

"Ah, you're finally speaking. We're making progress. Good." Her eyes remained glued to his. "Horses, human. Large mammals that can be trained for war. While the average horse on the surface can gallop as fast as forty miles-per-hour, our exceptionally bred animals are capable of galloping up to sixty_._"

She grinned. "Can you imagine it, hero? The wind in your face; the rippling muscles of a powerful beast stretching and contracting underneath you as it carries you into the fray? A weapon so incredible in your hands that it can claim the life of your enemy with such silent swiftness that it's simply incomparable?"

"I have an idea," Link said.

"Don't compare your feeble bird to the powerhouse that is a horse, hero."

"I'm not," Link replied, keeping to himself his amazement over how much she seemed to know. "I just know what it means to have a strong bond with an animal companion."

"Not only are you humans weak, but ignorant," Lilith said with a headshake. "You know nothing of us, yet we know all about you."

Link looked up into her haughty eyes. "For someone who knows so much," he said, "there's a lot you're blind to." The two glared challengingly. "Humans aren't weak."

"Who better to represent the inadequate human race than the Goddess's hero? Are you not among their finest? If not _the_ finest?"

"If you mean the best fighter, then I don't know."

"The hero of prophecy, the one who will rise up at the forefront of the apocalypse is supposedly a man of unmatched skill. One who will lead a vast army in war."

Apocalypse, war, army—these were words he'd recently heard.

"And as of right now," Lilith said, sneering, "you are not much of a representative. Especially compared to the greatness of _him_."

"Who?" Link asked.

"Why, your lover of course," she said.

Link marveled at her serious tone. "My…what?"

"Lord Ghirahim," she replied, no longer smiling. "The one who brought you here and awarded you the privilege of being his companion. Why he hasn't killed you or sent you to prison is beyond me. He doesn't normally keep humans around for very long. He must be quite fond of you. You're lucky."

"He's not my lover," Link stated.

"Well, you are his, at least. I've observed the two of you. I watched you in the stairwell." She leaned forward as she spoke. "And you, human, failed to resist his advances."

Link stepped back again, angry. "You don't know what I've been through today. What choice do I have? I already tried to run twice—"

Lilith scoffed. "_You _attempted escape? More than once?"

"Yes. Both times I almost died. Escape gets me nothing but more humiliation. Why shouldn't I be allowed to choose the lesser of two evils…?" His voice quieted. "I guess I'm just looking ahead to when I can finally leave this place."

"Biding your time," Lilith said, "hmm, I see…" Her voice reeked of disapproval. Link narrowed his eyes, sure that a plethora of disrespectful thoughts was soaring unabatedly through her mind. "Well, one thing that my people will never blame you for is succumbing to Lord Ghirahim's affections. His touch is unlike any other, even to another demon." She cracked a questioning grin. "You really don't enjoy his touch?"

"Am I supposed to?"

Lilith simply shrugged. "Well, you are the hero, after all," she said. "Perhaps you have innate immunity. And besides, the stigma that comes from sleeping with the enemy can deter you even from absolute ecstasy."

"No, I just don't want anything to do with him," Link told her.

"No matter," Lilith interjected. "You can deny it as much as you want, but you and I both know quite well that there is chemistry between you."

_Hmm. The kind of chemistry that results in the little volcano erupting everywhere._

"I felt it as I watched you," she continued. "In fact, I've never sensed such valency between his lordliness and another demon. Or human. Or anyone."

"Well, that's horrifying," Link grumbled, looking off to the side.

"Consider it an honor," Lilith said with a smile, "even if you are the enemy's hero."

Link shook his head. Lilith giggled. "Lord Ghirahim will be back for you soon," she said, her eyes sweeping his chest. "You're running out of time."

"Well, what else do I need to do to please you, company commander?" His tone was harsh. He didn't care.

"Oh, I don't know," Lilith said, taking another step. "I guess the question is, how hungry are you? What are you willing to do?" Link took another step back, not realizing how many he'd taken to escape her. As his back hit the stone wall at the room's edge, he jumped.

Lilith cornered him. "At what level is your thirst, hero?" she asked, her face just above his. Her pink lips were so close that he could see how smooth and perfect they were. He could smell her now. The clean scent of new leather intermingled with the perfume of countless hours in the wilderness. A hint of lavender effused her rugged aroma. Her eyes bore a strange weight upon him. Between her natural fragrance and her radiant beauty, this woman was enticing.

It was odd to have someone other than Ghirahim crowding him. He cringed at the idea of feeling a greater sense of normalcy with him over a woman. This had been an odd day, indeed.

"How hungry are you?" she asked again, giving him about as much space as Ghirahim would have. "What are you willing to do to alleviate it?"

Not sure of what to think, Link gave her an ardent glare. "Haven't you people ever heard of kindness?" he asked. "Can't you make this just a little bit easy? Does everything have to be this way? If this is how you live then I don't see how this home of yours is anything worth fighting for."

"That's merely because of who you are," Lilith said, the front of her body brushing his. "But not because you're human. On the contrary, there are humans who reside here. No. It's because you oppose us. You mock us with your very existence. For this, the people here loathe you."

"So you loathe me?" Link asked, sliding his hands on the cold stone behind him.

"I don't know. What do you think?" She tilted her head as if she was going to pull closer.

Link didn't budge. "I'd say you're really close to someone you loathe." Her face was so near he almost didn't want to speak for fear that their lips would rub together. "I also think you prove that beauty is only skin deep."

"You didn't answer my question," Lilith said. Her eyes were stunning but oppressive.

"You didn't answer mine either," Link said, unable to take his eyes off of her. He took a deep breath.

Lilith moved closer. "So what's it gonna be, hero? Are you willing to do what I want to get what you need?"

Link could feel her pulling his mouth toward hers as if by a string. With eyes deadlocked, they breathed on each other for a moment.

Link stared as Lilith pressed her cheek to his. Feeling her heavy exhale against his skin, he closed his eyes. His mouth opened as she brushed his lips and nose with hers. He breathed in. When she brushed the other way, his eyelids fluttered. When his eyes opened he saw a pleased smile.

"You want kindness, human?" she asked with unmistakable passion. "I can give you more kindness than anyone ever has."

Link looked down, watching Lilith join their fingers. Lifting their hands, she gently nudged his chin up. He stared, fixated and wide-eyed.

Suddenly he was jerked forward. He gasped, overwhelmed by the sensation of her tongue in his mouth. He retracted as much as he could, but his somnolent body had no chance to protest. Lilith clung to him, pressing her chest to his bare flesh. The sort of warmth that he'd felt only once before started pouring into his mouth. Part of him felt like melting against the wall.

Earlier, he'd suspected that a large part of his body had grown numb over the course of this horrible day. She, however, seemed adept at ridding him of this problem.

Lilith's hands crept onto his shoulders. His hands traveled up as well, settling near the pocket under her belt and catching her attention. He offered her a stern glance as he sank his hand into her pocket. She sighed before pushing further into his mouth. Her free hand descended between them, almost resting on a place where even Ghirahim hadn't touched.

Whipping his hand out of her pocket, Link rapidly unsheathed an object as his mouth continued to work. Upon hearing the recognizable sound, Lilith's eyes shot open.

With a flash of silver Link jumped behind her and swung her left arm back in one fell swoop. He bent her arm and pushed it to her back with the palm twisted up. She barely had any time to yelp before he circled around, bringing a razor-sharp blade to her throat.

Standing on his toes with his chest pressed against her, he spoke into her ear. "I'd rather drop from thirst and die of starvation in the battle arena than make the mistake of giving you what you want." He squeezed her wrist and crushed the handle of the small knife in his grip.

Subdued with her face against the wall, Lilith looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

With no desire to hold a conversation with a woman in a restraining grapple, Link tossed her arm down, withdrew the knife and headed for the nearest open window. Lilith turned and rubbed her neck. She watched as he tossed her weapon into the air.

After peering outside, he glanced back at her. "I'm not interested in what you're offering," he told her. "Why don't you take it and go away. Go hunt down your combat knife while you're at it."

But instead of giving a derisive look, Lilith grinned. "I'll be right back," she said as she turned and walked to the door.

After it shut, Link slowly looked around. The silence could practically be felt. It was the first time he had been alone since coming to this Goddess-forsaken place. He turned his eyes to the window once more.

He could climb down the side of the barony to freedom. He crossed his arms and rested his knuckles against his mouth in thought.

_Where would I go? Not back into the woods. But how could I hide in this town, or any town? I could do it, but I'd eventually get caught. Wandering into the barren wasteland doesn't sound very promising, either. And I need my sword. I can't desert Fi, or be without a weapon. I don't even know how to get back to the surface—_

"Here you go," Lilith said, derailing his train of thought. He lurched to the side. She held a hand out. He was surprised to see a generous portion of bread. In her other hand was a large glass bottle of water. Unmoving, he raised his eyes.

"It's okay," she said. "I know it's not much; just bread and water. But here, take it." Apprehensively, Link lifted his hands to receive it.

"Here, sit down," Lilith said, pointing to one of the small tables by the window. "You probably haven't gotten to sit in a chair for who knows how long? Enjoy it while you can." Analyzing the bundle of food and water in his arms, Link shambled to the nearest wooden chair. Lilith took the seat directly across from him and rested her face in her hand. Watching him, she grinned.

To Link, the bread looked good but the water looked downright incredible. It was like Kehia Island in a canister. He could almost see the palm trees and hear the calls of tropical birds. The bottle was sweating, even. It made him want to lick it. "Don't be shy," Lilith said. "I know you must be dying for a drink. Go on."

Taking a moment to give her one more look, Link lifted the bottle. Turning away from her to spare her the undignified sight, he started guzzling. The frigid moisture splashed up and sprayed him in the nose. Not caring that the cascade down his throat was a teeth chattering temperature, he downed the entire thing without stopping.

He tilted the bottle higher and higher until it was completely empty. Taking a deep breath, he covered his mouth, basking for a moment in the sheer relief. He could feel the water travel from his stomach to every corner of his body. He rubbed a wet hand all over his face, so contented he could cry.

"Enjoy the water?" Lilith asked. Link looked at her and sighed. "I'll take that as a yes," she said, looking pleased. "You'd better eat something fast before his lordliness returns. It could be anytime now."

Feeling like a new person, Link faced forward once more, exhaling and massaging his face. For the first time, he smiled at her. Not wanting to appear too desperate, he tore a small piece from the loaf of bread before him. He popped it into his mouth.

With a dark, crunchy crust and a fluffy center, although bland, the bread was astounding. He had no clue whatsoever what the grain was that he was eating, but it didn't matter. The dish could have been as dreadful as raw wild Azurian potatoes or as delicious as a god's ambrosia. It would have made no difference. He was beyond grateful for even the sensation of something edible in his mouth.

Still covering his face, he rolled the spongy substance around in his mouth until it dissolved. He draped his arms over his chair. "Mmm," he groaned, "thank you." He suddenly felt like Pipit the night of the party at the Lumpy Pumpkin when he was all but screaming in delight over finally being able to eat something.

"You're welcome," Lilith said, her voice polite but stiff. She sat as a silent spectator for a time.

Link tried his best to eat in a controlled fashion. In spite of it all, he still had his pride. "So…" he said with a food-stuffed mouth, "what is your regiment training for anyway?" Lilith combed her fingers through her hair and chuckled. Already expecting inauspiciousness, his gaze lowered. He took another bite.

"Sorry, but don't expect me to reveal military secrets, hero."

"I thought we were friends," Link said dryly.

"Mmm. Not quite. You might have earned some respect from me, but we're far from friends."

"So a man has to hold a knife to your throat to gain respect from you?"

"Of course not," she said. "What brings my admiration out with fervency is a man who declines."

"Declines?"

"Yes. You turned down what I offered you. I've never even had that happen before. Of course, it could also be because I'm a baron's daughter, and my power intimidates men." She shrugged.

"Nah, it's 'cause you look…" Link began. Looking up at the ceiling, he stuffed a huge piece of bread in his mouth. "Never mind."

"You must have someone special you're saving yourself for," Lilith said with a smoky look in her eyes.

"I guess you could say that. I'd like to think so, anyway." Link paused. "But even if I didn't, I'd still say no. Sorry, but it's not my style." With her head still propped in her hand, Lilith gave him a softer look. "So, where's your real father?" he asked.

"Oh, he died long ago, I'm sure. I never knew him. He stayed in the sky realm."

Link paused as he chewed a few times. "Sky realm? You mean like…Skyloft?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure which state," Lilith said with a shrug.

"So…does that happen often?" he asked.

"Does what?"

"Do humans come here and…" He gestured his hands in various ways in an attempt to get his point across.

"Oh, no. Humans are brought here sometimes, but those occurrences are rare, like yours. So no, what happens most of the time is that women from my realm go to your realm."

"So, that happens a lot then?"

"Sort of. Most demonesses are urged to go, while others venture there on their own accord. Most of them don't advertise their sky adventures. Usually the only indication people receive of such an incident is the announcement of a new pregnancy."

"Oh…"

"Yeah. That's what my people go there for. It's our only means of reproduction."

Link felt hopelessly confused. Lilith laughed. "A male demon and a female demon can't have children. It's not possible. A male demon can't even have children with a human female. Nope, only a male from your realm is able to have children with a woman from this realm."

It was then that Link understood why demonesses went nuts over men.

"A demoness is a master seductress," Lilith said, "extremely adept at selecting a worthy specimen. She is highly proficient at luring an unsuspecting human into a one-night-stand. Here tonight, gone in the morning before he wakes up. He never even knows about the baby. In fact, I'll bet he's left debating whether the incident ever happened in the first place. "

_Pipit's fooled around with a strange woman or two. I wonder…_

"So what happens to all these human-demons? Do they stay here like you?"

"Mostly. Some never return from the sky realm at all, if their mothers decide to stay there. At that point, though, she's considered a heretic; a traitor to the crown. She and her baby would then be put on the list."

"The list? You mean they're searched for?"

"Yep. So if you're gonna run off to the sky realm and never return, you better have a talent for staying hidden. Those who are wish they'd never gone to the sky in the first place; not to mention they regret ever being born. It's not a good idea to be in the bad graces of our government."

"How does your government work?" Link asked.

"So many questions," Lilith said with a smile.

"What other chance will I have to learn about your realm?" Link asked. "Can't you just tell me _something_?"

"Okay," Lilith said, tapping her fingers on the table.

Link waited, hoping she would humor him. He slowly took another bite.

"It's pretty different from anything you're accustomed to," Lilith said. "Your states are self-governing, correct?"

Link quickly swallowed. "It's a combination of knight-run and military-run, depending on where you are."

"So, is Skyloft knight or military-run?"

"Knight-run," Link said. "My headmaster is in charge of the Main Island and its surrounding islands. Other parts are military-run."

"So he holds the most power?" Lilith asked. Link nodded. "And I assume there are people under his authority who assist him. Are they voted into office by the population?"

Link nodded again. "Then there's the Skyloftian army general, but I don't know anything about him. I just know that he holds just as much power as my headmaster."

Lilith smiled. "Okay, well, are you ready to learn why the demon realm is so different?" Link nodded yet again, this time more eagerly. Lilith took a breath. "To avoid vast amounts of technical mumbo-jumbo, this realm is a quasi-monarchy; a form of autocracy. Our leader is sovereign, with the power to do whatever he deems wise in any territory of this realm. With supreme political power, of course, his decisions aren't regulated by external legal restraints, or by popular control, like your state would be. But while he may have unrivaled control, the subdivisions within the government, or the baronies in each town, are left to make all legal and political decisions. That's where my step-father and all of his many associates come into play, and I step away."

"Okay, so everything having to do with law-making and disciplinary action is up to the baronies?" Link asked.

"The baronies govern their respective towns, yes."

"And they're left to manage themselves but still have an overseer?"

"You got it. He steps in if need be."

Link pondered for a minute. "You keep saying 'leader' and 'he'. Who are we talking about here?"

"Lord Ghirahim, of course, silly," Lilith said.

"He's your 'king'?" Link asked, making a face.

"Oh, no, he's just the king's delegate."

"There's someone above him, then," Link said, thinking out loud.

"Yes, the Demon King."

Link pursed his lips, forgetting that he had food in his hands. "Demon King?" he asked, rubbing the side of his face thoughtfully.

"That's right," Lilith said.

"So is he the one ordering you to prepare for war against my realm?" Link asked, his eyes on his hands as he fidgeted.

Lilith looked down as well. She seemed hesitant.

"It's been a long time since the war documented in the sacred texts," Link muttered to himself.

"Over three-thousand years to be exact," Lilith said, eying him closely. Link wasn't able to stifle his look of shock. "Don't they teach you these things where you come from?"

"We know some things about the war," he told her. "But not how long ago it happened."

"Well, like I said, you humans are ignorant," Lilith said. "And apparently your leaders wish for you to stay that way. They've locked your sacred texts away, after all."

Link stared for a moment. "You know about that?" Lilith only nodded in response. Link looked at the wall. "Spies," he said to himself. "That's what it is." He looked back at her. "If demons come and go as they please in the sky realm, then why wouldn't there be spies?"

Lilith only shrugged. Link figured he'd overstayed his welcome in terms of military questions. "Have you ever been to Skyloft?" he asked. "Or any other state?"

"Nope, never been to any of the sky states," Lilith told him. "I've never been to the surface either. In fact, I've never left this realm. I'm only eighty years old. I'm just a baby compared to most others."

"So how old are most of the other demons?" Link asked, shaking his head in confusion.

"It varies," Lilith said, crossing her slender legs. "Hybrids like myself range anywhere from three-thousand years old—coinciding with the end of the Great War—to newborn, really. My people have been working for three millennia to rebuild our population. My tribe was devastated in the war; surely you know that much."

"But the full-blooded demons," Link said, "how old are they?"

"Any full-blooded demon who survived the Great War is what we would label an original," Lilith said. "Originals, such as my step-father and mother, predate the Great War by thousands of years; all the way back to the creation; the beginning of time."

Link looked at her suspiciously, trying to wrap his mind around the scope of what she was saying. "So…full-blooded demons are immortal, but can die in battle?"

"As well as in other ways, yes," Lilith added.

"So if they don't get killed or die in an accident, they can live forever?"

"Potentially."

"But they can't have children?"

"Mm-hm. The only kids here are hybrids," Lilith said.

"So, if some hybrids are as old as three-thousand, does that mean they're semi-immortal too?"

Lilith shook her head. "It's pretty diversified. Some hybrids inherit the lifespan of their human parents. Others are blessed with what your people would call an unnaturally long life. Truthfully, each individual is different, and although we all know that our days are numbered, we don't know by how many."

"So, how many demons do you think are living in Skyloft, or Superna, or…" Link asked, giving it another shot. "Or Twilight?"

"Oh, Twilight!" Lilith exclaimed, making Link jump. "Ah, yes. Twilight. Now that you mention it, Twilight is the favored destination of my people due to its mild sun exposure. We are extremely photosensitive, after all."

Link picked at what remained of the bread in front of him. "Yeah, I heard," he said somberly.

"So it's safe to assume that Twilight most likely contains more hybrids, as well as full-blooded heretics than any of your other states."

Link looked around nervously. "Oh, okay, well that's a relief," he said, his sarcasm almost leaking through.

"I can't imagine why any of my people would want to desert this realm. It's far superior to the surface and the sky. You may not agree, but this realm is a sophisticated place. Its people are treated well. They're happy."

"Everyone always thinks that about their homes," Link said. "Everyone's a nationalist."

"Not everyone," Lilith said. "Even here there's an underground movement of anarchists who oppose this war, and have for centuries. I'm not sure how many of them exist but they number in the thousands. Several groups move about in the mountains and wilderness, preying upon military and political leaders. Sometimes civilians. Hundreds have died as a result of their ambushes and raids. It's horrible."

"So you're essentially a target, yourself?" Link said.

"Yup, a target to populists who don't like the idea of overthrowing the sky realm's power structure and turning it into a puppet regime."

Link moved around in his chair and scratched his head. "Can't say I like the sound of that either."

"You know what, though?" Lilith asked. "His lordliness is gonna return anytime. Now that you've eaten, why don't you jump into the bath?" She gestured toward the back corner of the room where Link had originally spotted her. "It's hot and clean. No one's used it. I just checked it for you. If you wash up I can run and find you a fresh change of clothes, like Lord Ghirahim suggested. I wouldn't want to get in trouble for leaving you a filthy mess. He made it clear that he wanted you unsoiled."

"Can't participate in a proper fight to the death if I'm not squeaky clean," Link mumbled. "I would hate to be less than presentable for everyone's favorite sadist."

"You really should watch your attitude, human," Lilith said, standing up. "Don't forget your place. He is the lord of this realm, after all. He has the power to do anything he wants to you."

"Yeah," Link said as he left the table. "If he was gonna kill me he would've done it by now. He already told me he wants me alive for some reason."

"Well, things can change around here," Lilith warned as she walked to the washroom, "faster than you can lose your clothing to a group of overly enthusiastic women." Link shrugged and sighed before following his hostess to the corner.

The wooden door creaked open. Link's nose was immediately filled with the glorious smell of unsullied water. It was mixed with the unmistakable, delicate scent of something that he greatly missed during his travels in the Faron Woods: soap.

_Thank the Goddess that even demons have a love for cleanliness_, Link thought. He took a step into the small rectangular room. It was just large enough to fit a moderately sized in-ground bathtub and small walkway.

"Well, here we are," Lilith said, presenting the tub. Link looked at the water and then back at her. "Go on." He wavered for a moment.

"Uh," he murmured, placing his hands in his pockets. "Aren't you gonna leave?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Lilith said subversively.

"Maybe not?"

"Perhaps. And maybe I'm still annoyed by what you did."

"Well—"

"You chucked my weapon out the window."

Link bit his tongue and looked at the water. It looked so inviting. All he wanted to do was accept its invitation. "I'm sorry I threw your knife out the window and got angry," he said, hoping she would go.

"Not good enough," Lilith answered.

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" he asked. All Lilith did was point to the water. Link gave her a twisted expression and shook his head.

"His lordliness will be back any second," she advised. "Don't you want to be dressed when he comes back? It seems to me that you have no time to argue."

Link gave her an impatient glare. She smiled. "Come on," she breathed, bringing her chest closer to his, "don't you want something _exciting_ to tell your little girlfriend when you return home?"

Link looked into her eyes before peering into the steaming tub again. Lilith cocked her head and grinned.

"Didn't you just say that you respect a man who says no? And what about those clean clothes?"

"I go nowhere until you're in that water," Lilith said.

"Okay," Link said. "If you insist."


	9. Comfort Amidst Danger

Chapter 9

Comfort Amidst Danger

Having thoroughly dried his shaggy blond locks with one of the towels from the washroom, Link quickly slipped his head through the top of his new linen shirt—_graciously_ provided by his hostess, of course. Wondering why all the towels beside the tub had to be so fluffy and pink, he slid his arms into the shirt's baggy sleeves.

In truth, the entire outfit Lilith had fetched for him was on the large side, from the socks to the pants to the boxer shorts. He adjusted the collar around his neck and rolled up the sleeves. The average hybrid must have been taller and more broad-shouldered than him, if the oversized clothing was any indication.

Then again, the average _human_ was bigger than him too. He was strong and muscular, but not huge by any means.

Of course, demons and hybrids redefined the word tall. That was a fact. He was fairly certain that he hadn't spotted more than a handful of individuals in this realm less than six feet in height. Very few were below the two-yard mark. Many stood well over six-and-a-half feet, even.

_As if I didn't feel short already_, he thought, tightening the leather belt around his waist. The dark umber shirt spilled down to the middle of his thighs and the bottoms of the matching pants bunched up around his ankles. _Well, it's better than my old bloody clothes._

As he twisted around to acclimate himself to the new fabric, his newly embrightened eyes moved to the far window. Before the casement stood a beautiful woman. A scowl was on her face. Her arms were rigidly crossed.

After staring into the darkness for a few minutes, she finally turned to Link. He couldn't hold back his smile when he saw her acidic expression. Her disheveled state was an even greater sight to behold.

Her long ebony tresses were soaked. A small puddle was slowly forming at her feet. Water dripped from her hair, trickling down her face and drenching her tidy uniform. She looked quite cold.

Link felt a sense of deep satisfaction. He might not have been able to take down the demon lord—yet—but getting Lilith back for her rascally ways was something he could do.

He was far from impressed by the way her hands had wandered earlier. At least Midna had known him for a good three hours before taking the liberty of groping him. And the way Lilith had harassed him by the bathtub—yes, she deserved this.

Link's roguish smile stayed. He patiently waited for Lilith's stubborn silence to lose the battle.

At long last it happened. "You're a jerk!" she shouted.

"No," Link said. "I did what you wanted. You said you weren't going anywhere until I got in the water." He shrugged uncaringly. "You never said you didn't want to join me."

Lilith's tooth-grinding was audible. "In all of my _clothes_?"

"You asked for it," Link said.

Lilith gave a frustrated grunt. "Oh yeah?" She marched up to him. "Do you always treat women like this?" She rested her fists on her hips.

"Do you always force yourself on men you just met?"

"Only when I have good reason to," she stated.

"Well, someone needed to stop you."

She came a little closer. "Why? If I'm not mistaken, you enjoyed my forwardness." Her face was beginning to turn red.

"No," he said flatly. "What I enjoyed was teaching you a lesson." He wasn't quite sure why he'd said that. Maybe it was because her annoyance was amusing. Perhaps she wasn't the only one capable of loathing someone she'd met just minutes before.

Lilith gasped softly. "Do you know how much power I hold in this realm, human?" She tapped her foot.

"As a captain and a baron's daughter, probably a lot."

"Are you aware of the sort of consequences that follow a lewd act such as the one you just committed?"

"Are you aware that I don't _care_?" he asked, amazing himself as much as her with his brazenness.

Lilith appeared downright incensed. "I…can't stand you," she muttered. Link shrugged once more. "I can't believe I had to walk up and down that drafty hall, _sopping wet_, to get _you_ something to wear!" Link looked down and smirked again. "_After_ I got you food! _And_ after I answered all of your inane questions. I didn't have to do that, you know!"

"Maybe you like me more than you'll admit," Link said.

Lilith looked away and sneered. "And I wasn't forcing myself on you. I was merely trying to—"

"I know what you were trying to do."

"Well, I—"

"I think you're mad because I'm not interested. You must be used to men submitting to you. Well, I won't be anyone's groveling slave."

"I liked you better when you were silent, _human_," Lilith spat.

"Well, I liked you better when you were dry, so I guess we're even." Link picked playfully at his fingernail.

Lilith's breath caught in her throat. "I served you!" she cried, her arms flying out to the sides. Link lifted his eyes to her. "I never do that for anyone! I'm an army captain! I don't even work in this room!"

"Maybe you should get a job here," he replied. Lilith shook her head and curled her fingers into fists again. "And besides that, you weren't serving me. You were serving _his highness_."

She gawked at the top of Link's clean head. An exasperated chirp escaped her. "I suppose that's the _only_ consolation I can possibly take from this pointless meeting. I should've let every one of those women tear you limb from limb like you _deserve_."

"Maybe you should have. I'd rather endure them than you."

Considering Lilith was doing little more than sputtering, Link figured she was angry beyond all reason. Using what he'd heard a young Pipit say to an instructor at the Junior Knight Academy—immediately before he'd been given a Saturday detention—Link took it a step further. "You're funny. You should take your show on the road. And never come back."

Lilith must have decided that his haughtiness was too much to bear. In an instant she had grabbed his shirt and yanked him forward.

"It didn't take long for you to drag me around by my shirt," Link said. Lilith's face showed a mixture of disbelief and vexation. "Pretty much everyone I know has. Going by past experience, you're about to knee me in the groin, toss me, scream in my face or shove your tongue down my throat. You already did the latter two so it must be one of the first."

Lilith pulled him closer, nearly smashing their noses together and practically shooting lasers from her eyes. "I have half a mind to do all four, you little miscreant. Then I'll be sure to _personally_ escort you to the mass of writhing, gnashing prisoners who make up the—"

Then, as if to break up the fight of the century, the door to the hallway opened. Both heads abruptly turned. Their mutual grip on one another hastily released. Parting with urgency, the two joined eyes with the demon lord, who had glaciated in place as soon as he discovered them. Link's gaze quickly turned to Lilith.

"My lord," she said breathlessly. Her head bowed and her clenched fist rose to her chest. Link looked at her before sending a solidified glance to Ghirahim. His enormous eyes looked as deep and unfeeling as ever.

To Link, the demon's mood appeared to be that of indifference, but he knew better than to underestimate him. Strangely, a small grin appeared on his face.

The demon's eyes moved from Lilith to the Link. "That will be all, miss," he stated. Link once again felt the languor of his stare.

"Thank you, my lord," she said in rapid response. As she lifted her head and skittered out of the room, Ghirahim watched intently.

After the damp woman disappeared down the corridor, the demon set his gaze on Link again. The same fear-inducing grin was still showing itself, proudly. Link swallowed as his eyes dropped. He was sure some sort of castigation was on the way; possibly a thrashing for having done something inappropriate.

He was reminded of the time he'd experienced the Junior Knight Academy's version of corporal punishment when it was still implemented. At that time, of course, he had deserved it and he knew it. Right now, however, he felt that the situation warranted his impunity. Weren't his actions justified? Lilith was awful.

Ghirahim approached. "Sky child," he said quietly. Link forced his eyes up. "Have you forgotten what and _where_ you are?" Link couldn't help but drop his gaze again. Stirring up the demon's anger while his sword was still nowhere to be seen would be pretty dumb. He knew that he was close—so incredibly close to having his weapon in his hands again. Forbearance was what he needed, not recklessness.

"Well, what are you, hero?" Ghirahim asked, bringing his long index finger to Link's chin. He pulled his face up.

Link stood and gaped. The demon seemed pleased by what he saw. "Uh, a human?" Link asked.

"And where are you?" Ghirahim asked.

The demon's pale lips caught Link's gaze. His blue eyes drifted to the black diamond on his face. "I—" he began, his eyes fixated on the dark emeril shape. "The infernal realm?"

Ghirahim chuckled. "Close enough." His voice was low and smooth. "But I believe we have a problem, sky child." Link lifted his chin a bit higher at the feel of the demon's fingernails on his skin. He held his breath. "Apparently you know _what_ you are, and you know _where_you are, yet you don't seem to know your _place_."

Link tried to look away but Ghirahim jostled his head with his finger. Link was reminded of when he'd first laid eyes on his captor in that cold room.

_If he beats me it will all have been worth it_, Link told himself.

"If you were anybody else, hero, _anybody __else_…." The demon slowly shook his head. "You would _not_ be leaving this room with the ability to walk. Verily, you would find yourself dragged away to join the rest of the tortured souls within this _realm_. That is the only fitting restitution for dishonoring a woman of her status."

Link just stood there with no clue what to say. Did the demon have any idea what Lilith was like?

All of a sudden, Ghirahim snatched him up by the back of his voluminous shirt and heaved him toward the door. After stumbling through the doorway, Link looked down the hall, irritated.

"Are you ready to _grasp the nettle__,_ sky child?" Ghirahim asked. Link peered at him strangely before stepping alongside him. He looked ahead into the eerie darkness.

Spotting someone moving several meters away in an adjacent passage, Link squinted his eyes. "Am I what?" he asked, his attention dividing itself.

Ghirahim sighed. "Are you ready for what you're about to face?"

As Link focused through the blackness, a striking hue jumped out at him. A shorter figure, a person about his stature stood in front of him. The being's hair wasn't white or even black. It almost seemed red. He held his breath as he realized what he saw; at least what he _thought_ he saw.

He spoke inaudibly to himself, forgetting about the demon's hand on his shoulder. He searched relentlessly through the haze but the hanging lanterns distorted his vision even more.

The figure turned toward Link, looked at him and finally hastened into the shadows. "Mid—" Link started to say, but his voice faded. His hand came up for a moment. Coming back to himself, he looked at Ghirahim. His arm quickly dropped by his side.

…

Night had fallen long ago, but the upper hall of the manor was alight and bustling as though day had never departed. Link was brought through the doorway connecting the open palaestra to the rest of the second floor. He was astounded by the din. The loud murmur of the denizens made him feel like he was caught in a nocturnal beehive.

Link looked around, feeling vastly out-of-place. While lively days back home gave way to nighttime revelry just like it did here, there really was no getting used to this place. Between the crowd in Acheron Square, the activity throughout Azrael Manor and the liveliness of the sparring area, he began to question whether anyone here ever retired the brutality.

Awestruck, Link surveyed the busy setting. The spacious room was the length and width of the main hall. It was adorned in the center with a gigantic peristyle, a ring of massive marble columns. It surrounded the battle arena like a group of twelve enormous sentinels.

Dozens of flambeaus lining the rectangular room filled it with torchlight. Link was surprised to see three separate skirmishes taking place all at once. Swords clashed, contenders shouted and spectators cheered. Wasn't it a bit late for this?

Link swallowed nervously. How many people would be watching _him_ tonight?

He thought about the ginger-haired figure in the hall. Had he truly seen something or had his jittery eyes played tricks on him? His eyesight didn't seem too trustworthy at the moment, but still. In this place there seemed to be no end to the unexpected.

And this room seemed familiar to him; much too familiar. It was as if he'd been here before.

The darkest of eyes watched him as he thought but he paid them no heed. He stared into the distance. _"__I stood upon the precipice_…_"_ Link heard in his head. He blinked. _"__My body was present, yet it wasn't. I felt numb….__"_ He blinked again. Those words—what were they from?

_"__The sounds that surrounded me were muffled, yet I could still hear. I looked down upon a room I'd never seen. It was dark and cold.…__"_ Link's hands shot to his face. Were these memories?

_"__I flinched at the sound of metal hitting metal…__"_ he shut his eyes, running his hand from his forehead to his nose. "_I could almost feel his agony and his anguish as he watched this monster's approach…__"_

Link gasped into his hand as the realization hit him. _"__It was me.__"_ His eyes darted around the room as he remembered. This was the room from his nightmare—the one he'd had last night in Faron Woods.

_"__But if this person was me, why did he appear to be left-handed?_" With dread, Link slowly eyed the demon. _"__I saw his body rise up against his attacker. With the demon's mouth still on his, he swung his bare hands wildly, knocking the creature away. They fell to the ground. The demon picked up the man's sword. Clutching it, he looked into the man's eyes. I could see the creature's face._"

Link looked Ghirahim in the eye. "_Then he maimed and sliced the man's already broken body._"

Link winced, breaking his gaze from the demon. "_Blood flew in every direction as he thrust the sword down again and again and again_…_"_ He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around himself. The grizzly image was _clearer now. __"__And all I could hear were my own ear-shattering screams.__"_

The room had been darker in the dream, but he was certain—this was the very spot where he'd witnessed his own death. Ghirahim had already revealed that the dream was his own doing, but it was only now that the true meaning of it could be pieced together.

This realm seemed to be a place where time lost all fluidity. Link's dream, his time in the woods, Skyloft—it all seemed so far away, like things that had never existed in the first place.

He suddenly felt something that he'd never felt before—the urge to run from a fight.

The grim reaper was in this room, and he was waiting for him. And he came in the form of a malicious, bloodthirsty demon.

Fearful, he turned back to Ghirahim. The demon appeared level and calm, but Link knew that _he_ knew. Anxiously, he took a step back.

He backed into the hallway. Ghirahim pursued with a stare as unbreakable as steel.

Standing in the dark, Link knew he had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. All he was sure of was that he didn't want to go back into the upper hall.

"Sky child," Ghirahim said, his voice controlled. A prim hand ascended but Link jumped back in disdain. With his feet still moving his hand batted the demon's away. He wanted none of it. He wanted none of _him_. His back met the chill of a wall, a sensation which it was well acquainted with by now.

"Sky child." To Link's displeasure, the demon's palms came to rest on his shoulders. He turned his face away. The demon's hands were heavy, weighed down by the blood of countless people. Link feared that his own would soon be added to the pool.

Link felt as if he was in the throes of a restless sleep. Perhaps this wasn't real.

He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. Another laid itself softly atop his head. He opened his eyes to see pleats of crimson velvet. He was held for a moment, tenderly, until he felt his tension start to ease.

He sighed several times. An urge to relax every muscle was beginning to overcome him. Still, he jerked, distrusting Ghirahim's intent. The grasp on his shoulder tightened. He tensed up again as the demon's hands slid up to his trapezius muscles. Link gaped as several strong fingers squeezed, kneading deeper and harder with every stroke.

He felt a chill. It didn't feel bad in any way, but…good; wonderful, actually. The demon's massage was exquisite.

Link's jaw dropped and his eyes closed. A softer chill traveled through him, leaving goose bumps behind. He gradually loosened.

He took a breath, not wanting the pleasant feeling to end. It smoothed over him like a balm.

"Listen to me," Ghirahim said, "Link."

Link's ears twitched as he heard his name. He froze in place. It was the first time anyone had said it since Fi had addressed him in the woods.

In Link's mind he saw a flame. Fanned by an affectionate breeze it grew brighter and taller, burgeoning into a fire.

Deep in thought, the heat turned to euphoria. Whether it was due to alchemic influence or all of the horrid events of this day, Link felt amazing.

Serenity bloomed where the demon's touch lay. His forehead pressed to Ghirahim's chest. The demon curled around him, his arms enclosing Link's upper body. "That dream," Ghirahim said, his chin resting on Link's head, "you know what it means. If we enter that ring, you will _not_ be walking out." Link's weight left the wall, accepting the support of the demon. His arms felt comforting, but dangerous. Link sighed, enjoying it.

"Do you recall what I told you when you arrived? First, we deliberate. Then, I offer you a proposition. Lastly, we go head to head." Resting his cheek against the velvet, Link nodded. He shut his eyes and listened, taking in Ghirahim's colloquial tone.

"I would prefer to _not_ have to offer you that proposition, sky child. Because, you see, we don't _have__to_ go into that hall."

Ghirahim's fingers had traveled to Link's head. As one hand gently played with his hair, the other caressed between his neck and shoulder.

Overtaken by tickling warmth, Link groaned softly. He breathed in and rocked, holding firmly to the demon.

"We've discussed a considerable amount today, sky child," Ghirahim said quietly, his embrace steady. "With the knowledge that you've been given, with your new experiences, with your enlightenment, what is it that you'll do?" He paused, deepening his massage. "You need not fret about your shortcomings, your failings, past, present or future. It doesn't matter. None of it matters, because we don't have to go into that room."

The demon's voice sounded delightful. His touch felt even better. The distress brought on by the threat of battle was rapidly fading, dissipating from Link's mind like a puff of smoke.

"You can still have her, sky child," Ghirahim said. Link's eyelids came up. "You can have her and so much more. Everything you could ever want or need is laid before you. It is ripe for the taking, but you first must decide."

Link struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Things grander than you could ever imagine; they are all here. Things that surpass anything and everything in this world. A chance at power—as much power as even _I_ have, sky child. Imagine. You've seen so little of this realm. What you have yet to see will amaze and astound you. The people here are honorable. They are worthy of fair and judicious leaders. Need I say more?" Link's head shook lightly.

"The vision that you had at the foot of the Goddess Statue not two weeks ago, it will all come true."

Link's breathing accelerated at the mention of the horrifying image. Although brief, it was petrifying. He recalled kneeling next to Zelda at the statue's edge. She had cried out in anguish.

_Zelda…. But…._

"_But_, only if you choose correctly," Ghirahim said.

Link saw it again. The ocean of blood, the screaming and death all around him. "You will be an eyewitness to the bereavement of many, sky child. Demons and humans alike will perish together. The people who you know—knights, acquaintances, instructors, soldiers, _friends_, the woman who you just met—they will all die on the battlefield. Do you want the blood of thousands on your head, human?" The demon's hands gripped him harder now. "But there doesn't have to _be a war,_sky child. Do you understand?"

Link's throat felt dry. His entire body felt arid in spite of all the water he'd just taken in.

"That clamor in the distance that I know puzzles you," Ghirahim said. Link's interest was piqued. His eyelids felt heavy but he refused to give in to them. He blinked once, very slowly, as he listened for an explanation.

"Prisoners, sky child. Some demon, some _human_. Prisoners of war who have been cast into eternal torment. Decades, centuries, thousands of years some have been there." Link suddenly felt weak in the knees as he watched Ghirahim's mouth move. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "But you can give them rest. You can give them the peace they've been longing for, if—"

"If I choose correctly," Link interrupted.

"You can save lives and put weary souls to rest all with a single decision, sky child." As he stared up into the face of the demon, Link felt two hands cup his own. Bit by bit, Ghirahim lowered his face to him. Feeling limp but calm, Link stood. The demon's mouth approached his.

Link's heart started racing.

"Join with me, sky child," Ghirahim said, his voice vehement and his fingers stroking.

Link froze.

"What's it going to be, hero?"


	10. A Demon's Introspection

Chapter 10

A Demon's Introspection

This crucial moment—this pivotal point in time would prove to be one of history's greatest watersheds for the demon realm. The sky and surface realms as well. Everything hung on the hero's decision.

Ghirahim lowered his eyes to Link, considering the fine line he'd walked with him. It was a turbulent yet striated plane with a designated safe zone. He could only hope that he'd kept the human within that narrow strait. Only time would tell.

_How can I trust you? How can you prove that your words are true? How can you guarantee that a multitude of lives will be spared? How do I know you won't kill me once I do what you want? If what you say about Midna is true, then I want to see her. You've antagonized me for hours, you're not my companion, nor will you ever be. How could I join with someone so evil? What will happen to Skyloft once I yield?_—

All questions the demon knew Link was considering. Luckily, he was prepared with a skillful contrivance of suitable answers for each and every one.

He paused, taking advantage of this rare opportunity. The entire evening had been full of restrictions and limitations. Everything had to be handled just so. To yaw from the intended course would have meant immediate failure. Now, he rested his hands on the human and just felt him.

Every word spoken, every word withheld. Every touch given, every touch held back. It was all highly critical. Together, every decision would determine the outcome. From the way that the bound human had awoken to his two escape attempts; from his humbling experiences to his edification in the woods; his exposure to different sights, people, environments and stimulants—it had all been meticulously planned and carried out. Each task making up the schematic that the demon had been given was masterfully carried out.

Of course, the ingenious plan had been put into place many days before the spirit maiden was plucked from the sky. Visions had been sent to this hero in green more than once. The foreboding dream in the Faron Woods had also been part of this arrangement. Fortunately, it appeared to have served its purpose.

Had his words been too harsh or not harsh enough? Had he broken this human down enough yet left him fully intact? Had he avoided raising his suspicions, either miscreated or legitimate? Had this human been convinced, yet left curious? Was he hungry for more? More of what he'd felt in the woods, and more of what the demon's tantalizing words had touched upon? Had the human been sufficiently frightened? Made wary to the point of developing a healthy fear, yet not so frightened as to remain impenetrably guarded? Did the human believe _any_ of what he'd been told?

Had physical contact between them been plentiful, yet not too frequent? Would what was implanted in this human continue to develop…?

Despite his trials and intermittent umbrage, the human had most certainly let go of some of his resistance. It was obvious that he'd become far less disinclined, and much more accepting toward his captor, compared to what he'd been when he arrived. Ghirahim had to admit that a rather interesting rapport had been crafted here.

He continued to listen closely to the human. He waited. The question had been asked. The offer had been made. Now it was up to the hero. Oh, how much easier it would be if he accepted.

Had he overdone it in the woods? Was the chain too much? Ghirahim had made the mistake of striking him out of anger and even playfulness on more than one occasion. He didn't expect that his master would be terribly pleased about that.

But his overly enthusiastic dealings were precisely why distraction had become imperative. Strangely, the human seemed to be enjoying this diversion more than Ghirahim had anticipated. With an aspiration to ease the human's discomfort while diverting him from his fears, the demon had generously showered him with telesmatical energy. It had not, however, been Ghirahim's intention to educe this sort of reaction from him. The result had been a curious one with the way the human melted against him. His breathing had deepened. He seemed to be warming up to him.

Perhaps the notion of setting foot inside the peristyle was too much. Maybe the spirit of death hung so heavily on him that he'd lost all courage. How ironic. Not a bad thing, really. The demon did want the human scared, but just enough to shy away from the prospect of a duel. A delicate balance needed to be maintained.

The demon lord was not particularly into cuddling; but, if affection was what the human craved then he was prepared to give it to him. In fact, if snuggling guaranteed the hero's defection from the Goddess, then in the name of his master he would gladly do it. Actually, he would do anything.

_Anything._

The demon's forehead frounced as he thought. His eyes rose with a gleam. A slim smile turned his lips up. His tongue began to enliven in his mouth.

Being curious by nature, the demon's interest in the hero had been fashioned days ago. He'd already confessed to Link his weakness for guilty pleasures in the Acheron Woods. So, at the very least it probably wouldn't _shock_ the human, per se. He'd also mentioned the idea while cornering him in the stairwell. Perhaps he'd sparked the human's own dark curiosity.

Ghirahim had seen Link, both before he'd entered the Deep Woods and afterward, several times. He'd heard him talk and had observed him relating to his little witch.

Fi—Ghirahim's thoughts about the job at hand were nearly all-out appropriated the second the image of the azuline sword spirit had entered his mind. Another object of his fascination, she brought to mind reflections of a time long past, before…everything.

But not now. No, now was not the time.

The human had been captivating in his own right. Ghirahim had had the privilege of witnessing his swordplay. The hero mowed down every last one of the demon's minions with ease. He was powerful, this human. Green, but powerful.

At first the demon had wanted nothing more than to capture this little person; to turn him into a pet, to toy with him and push him mercilessly to the brink in every possible way. Oh, it would have been fabulous, especially after the Sheikah had claimed that serendipitous victory regarding the spirit maiden. His master had been disenchanted to say the least. This left the demon with a nagging itch to project his anger onto someone else, somehow.

Then the hero came around again. The moment he was spotted, the demon was helpless to stop the onslaught of racy thoughts. But before he allowed his overzealousness to take over, he consulted his master. It was a good thing he did, too.

Such an abundance of time had been spent discussing the spirit maiden that her little champion, who had a fascinatingly subdued way about him, had been all but ignored. And he had potential. He could be more than just a toy—this young human who so enjoyed sleeping next to a blazing fire, half-clothed; this hero who had a tendency to be silent most of the time but was inclined to be the very delineation of 'chatterbox' when conversing with the sword spirit.

Utterly annoying, truthfully, the way this insignificant little being was able to monopolize something as splendid as the one trapped in the Goddess Sword. The human had no idea what sort of gift had been conveniently dropped in his lap.

Ghirahim shook his head as his eyes dimmed. He combed through the human's hair, breathing in to partake of its clean scent. It sure beat the stench of bokoblin blood. The sound of the human's shallow breaths as he reacted to the massage was fairly entertaining, as well. It had unquestionably paid off to take the time to search this human's mind beforehand. Being privy to his likes and dislikes meant that Ghirahim had the power to either make him extremely happy or tremendously miserable. At the moment, however, the word subliminal held more appeal for him.

Passing a liberal amount of trance-inducing power through his hands, the demon smiled to himself. This human was restless; perhaps even desirous. Maybe it was permissible to explore a little bit, but only if the human was okay with it. Overstepping that particular boundary would definitely decimate the intricate house of cards he'd built. But at the same time, if the human was ready for it….

A catch twenty-two—the only way for the demon to judge whether the human was amenable or not was to employ the usual tactic. This, of course, involved an action which had the capacity to leave the human distraught and no longer receptive. The solution could very well lead the pair back to square one. Counterproductive, indeed.

Licking his lips, the demon considered his options for giving his tongue free rein. He thought about fabricating a story which would lure him into accepting more energy. It seemed more promising than the use of force, anyway.

Normally a master at finding and wriggling his way through any available loophole in order to get what he wanted, Ghirahim found himself in an unlikely situation. Searching his mind for a moment in an attempt to decide whether the risk was worth taking, he pushed Link away, allowing the hand on his head to slide over his shoulder.

Leaning in low, Ghirahim studied his subject's eyes. Link stared back, obviously trying his best to focus. Examining the human's condition, the demon pursed his lips. Link's eyes were considerably glassy, almost clouded over, indicating that his mind was only partially present. His system didn't seem to be handling the transfer very well.

The demon needed the human's mind sharp. The ability to make a fully-informed decision was of the utmost importance. To have the human give in voluntarily now only to feel violated later would ruin everything.

Damn these rules…

But the situation was more complicated than that. Even if the human was open to the idea of letting the demon have his way, there still existed a slight chance that he could become dependent. And Ghirahim simply couldn't have that right now.

Such incidences were rare, as it would normally take several encounters for a human to become addicted to a demon's touch. But under the proper circumstances it'd been known to happen. Contact had already been made several times. And this human was very vulnerable right now.

No. Such an occurrence would interfere with the Demon King's plan. And time was at a premium. Ghirahim inhaled and looked away.

But, seduced by selfish desire, he was tempted to take this human; to blow his mind, just for the fun of it. To make him, well….

Then, afterward, he could deal with the consequences and decide where to go from there. It was also possible for an encounter such as this to work in his favor instead of as a detriment.

Or he could just ask him. The demon's eyes shifted in thought. The straightforward approach could work, perchance, but he wasn't expecting much. "You want it, don't you, hero?" Ghirahim asked with a devious grin.

Link squinted a few times before refocusing his eyes. "What? What do I want?" he asked, teetering slightly.

The demon's expression changed to an impatient one. "It, sky child, _it_. Because it would appear that you do." He clasped Link's shoulders.

"Oh," Link said, slowly lifting his hand to scratch his head. The demon's brow came up. Link shut his eyes as he held back a yawn. He looked Ghirahim dead in the eye. "Actually," he said, letting his hands drop lazily, "no."

Ghirahim's eyebrows dropped. So much for that idea. "Then why do you look and sound like you're enjoying my touch, sky child?"

"I'm exhausted, that's all," Link told him. "I mean, it feels…" He stopped and fidgeted, attracting the demon's gaze. "I mean, I haven't slept very well since leaving home. Plus I've been sick all day. And I usually think about Midna before going to sleep, so…." Link looked ineptly away. "It's just habit…." He shrugged. "It makes for interesting dreams," he added, looking at the floor.

So, the hero is in the mood because of that woman? Ghirahim was suddenly looking forward to the possibility of beating him within an inch of his life, and beyond.

Purposely jarring Link out of frustration, the demon dispelled him, shoving him against the wall to wake him up. Link's eyes broadened from the jolt. "_Snap out of it, sky child_," Ghirahim snarled through gritted teeth. Not expecting such a harsh reaction, Link froze. "I am the only one you need concern yourself with right now. Remember that."

…

The demon's face tensed, signaling to Link that he'd better choose his words carefully. This capricious creature was somewhere between wanting to murder him and just plain wanting him, it seemed. Link wasn't sure what to think about it, especially after being offered something as daunting as an alliance. He took some more dry air into his lungs, opting to remain silent.

"Do you know what I believe to be true, sky child?" Ghirahim asked. He delicately lifted Link's chin. Finding it impossible to avert his gaze, Link submitted to the demon's stare. "I think—no—I _know_ that you're tempted by everything that I'm offering you." The demon brought his face close. "I don't need to delve into details because you know what I mean, do you not?"

Link's eyes, which were hopelessly heavy before had no trouble opening. His mouth opened a bit but he clammed up as soon as the demon closed in. He gulped timidly. The demon dominated his field of vision.

"I can play you more consummately than even you can play your own instrument, human," Ghirahim stated. "Look at how good just a simple touch makes you feel." As he spoke he rubbed Link's shoulder, garnering a flinch from him. After a few deep rubs, however, Link found himself not only wanting to let go, but also wanting more. The change had happened fast. It was alarming.

"Come now," Ghirahim coaxed, "you're an honest fellow." Using only the finger that cradled his chin, he pulled Link closer. Link took an uneasy step forward, feeling torn. "So," Ghirahim whispered, "how do I make you feel?"

Link shut his eyes for a few seconds. He took in a long shaky breath, feeling extremely pleasant, but mostly vexed. He hastily withdrew from the demon and stepped back, driving himself against the wall. "How does Zelda fit into all of this?" he asked, eager to change the subject.

Ghirahim's empty hands dropped. He stood silently for a time. Link wondered what in the world he was thinking. All he could tell was that he looked displeased.

"Sky child," the demon said, his voice low, "you will see her soon. That I promise you."

"That doesn't tell me anything," Link said, as stiff as a board. "She's the center of all this, isn't she?"

Ghirahim cocked his head. "What brings you to that conclusion?" His tone was modulated.

"You took her," Link said. "For some reason you took her. It's why I left my home, why I was brought to Fi and why I'm risking my life. Fi said Zelda and I were part of a great destiny. But she was targeted, not me. I assume she's the core of whatever it is you're doing."

"Don't be so sure, hero."

Link shook his head. "You haven't proven anything to me yet." Ghirahim's expression flattened. "You seem to really want my cooperation. If what you want me for involves hurting my best friend, then you can forget it."

"Human, you were never told th—"

"I need proof," Link said. The demon raised his brow again. "Show me some evidence. How do I know you won't pull a fast one on me and everyone I know if I join you? Will my sacrifice really bring peace?"

"Masses of lives will be spared, sky child. And yes, peace will be achieved."

"For who?" Link asked, standing up taller under Ghirahim's stare. "Someone just told me what you intend to do with the sky realm." Link thought for a moment, searching for the right words. "I have a feeling I'd have to accept that one person's death is justified as long as it achieves the greater good. Under the perfect circumstances, maybe, but…" He gave the demon a stony look. "But not with my best friend."

The stark clash of weapons in the upper hall served as an ominous backdrop to the conversation. Link was starting to feel a bit of discomfiture coming from the demon.

"So, what exactly is it that you're saying, sky child?" Ghirahim asked, his eyes tapering.

"That you aren't going to…." Link took a minute to find the proper words again. "Inveigle me," he finally said.

"I need your full answer, hero," Ghirahim said, a routed look creeping over his face.

Link hesitated, afraid to say it. But he took a breath, squared his shoulders and looked his captor in the eye. He practically had to force bravery to take authority over his survival instinct.

_Keep eye contact,_ he told himself. "I can't do what you're asking." It could've come out more decretorially, but oh well.

Now the demon looked collected, but furious. Link's fingers fluttered until he succumbed to the urge to avert his eyes. What use was there in feigning ferocity without a weapon? He was no match for the demon's strength, or his magisterial powers. He hadn't been all day.

The demon breathed outward. Link paused, feeling as though something had shifted; as if a missing puzzle piece had clicked into place. It was not a good feeling at all. He studied Ghirahim carefully. He appeared as deflated as someone who had put forth a gargantuan effort, but failed miserably. His bubble, whatever it was made of, seemed to have popped. Knowing that the demon's hard work had proved fruitless once, Link understood his anger.

It was painfully obvious that Ghirahim was seething. His displeasure was mushrooming right before Link's eyes. Link required no allusions from the demon to know what sort of impact his words had made.

Ghirahim wasn't saying anything. It made Link nervous. He didn't move, but simply clutched his equanimity. He had to hold it together.

The demon's face looked angry, but also thrilled. He leaned forward and placed both hands against the wall around Link's head. Link grimaced, doing his best not to show fear. But all he could picture was his very own stream of yellow vapors.

Ghirahim glided down, aiming his face toward Link's left side. To his horror, Link felt two lips brush unscrupulously against his sensitive ear.

"Does she know this is a sweet spot for you, sky child?" Ghirahim asked, breathing into his ear. With a gasp, Link shivered and flung his head away.

Ghirahim grabbed the side of Link's face and forced him back. Pressing his nose to his ear, he breathed in heavily, making Link nearly jumped out of his skin. Not only jump but cry out. The frightful sound echoed from every corner of the long, black hallway. He quickly grabbed Ghirahim's arm and stared.

"Getting warmed up for later, human?" Ghirahim teased, rubbing his hands and face against him.

Link stood with mouth gaping and eyes fluttering, trying to decide if pulling away from him or pushing into him would be more effective. Pulling away wouldn't help if he was just going to be yanked back. Pushing hard against the demon might stop him from messing with his ear like that. He could hardly stand it.

But Ghirahim backed away before a decision could be made. Link panted in relief. "I foresee your ears bleeding from the sound of your own screams, human." The demon grinned. "And I've heard you have a silky singing voice. I await your song with bated breath."

Link wasn't sure why, but the demon's tone made him blush. Maybe it was the subtle undertones; the delicate implications; the double meaning of what he'd just said.

Ghirahim looked at Link's anxiously parted lips and chuckled. "Take it easy, sky child. I could, but I won't." He ran his index finger down the side of Link's face, tickling his flushed skin.

Link craned his neck, unable to escape, or even move closer. He could only move against the wall. Leaning his head back, he shut his eyes. He soon felt the cut on his neck being examined. His shoulders scrunched.

He'd almost forgotten his injuries—the jagged wound beside his eye from the tree branch, and the razor cut just below his jawline.

These cuts were still fresh, and the more he thought about them, the more they burned, especially with the demon's fingers tracing them. He had a sudden gut-wrenching vision of Ghirahim leaning down and licking him, scouring his wounds for the blood that he'd so enjoyed earlier.

But still, he couldn't move. He wasn't sure what he was feeling anyway. Was the demon healing his wounds?

"You know, hero," Ghirahim said as he grazed Link's skin, "I love your increasingly acquiescent attitude. But I believe I have something that you've been separated from for far too long."

Ghirahim took a bouncing step back, leaving Link to wonder some more.

The demon lifted his arm and took hold of something unseen. Then, a glimmer appeared above his lissome fingers. Link watched as the shine began to elongate, slowly descending in unison with Ghirahim's arm.

From hilt to tip, a brilliant, glistening blade was pulled out of thin air. Link's eyes widened at the sight. The flawless steel shined even in the unlit corridor. Down it was drawn until the impeccably pointed tip came into view. The demon held the majestic object out of Link's reach, provoking him to thought.

_The Goddess Sword._

Link's hands were eager. They wanted to reach for his desperately missed weapon. He could almost hear the blade calling to him. He wanted to hold Fi in his arms.

"This sword is ages old, sky child," Ghirahim said, twirling the blade around. He held it before Link's face. "Do you realize how old this is? Notice the perfectly formed fuller." The demon ran a finger from the guard to the central ridge. He slowly made his way to the tip. He dragged his finger back-and-forth across the sharpness of it, smiling as he did so. Link rubbed the back of his neck.

"Observe the pristine edge," Ghirahim continued, sliding his hand around the body of the blade. With a cautious grasp he ran his hand down. He soon moved it back up. Link watched.

By the fourth stroke, Link realized what the demon was doing. His face turned redder than it had the first time. He swallowed, looking up at the demon.

Ghirahim immediately pressed the blade to Link's throat. "How does it feel, sky child?"

Link gasped, fighting the urge to grab the sword. "How does what feel?" His voice was almost a whisper.

Simpering, Ghirahim gingerly swept the blade across Link's throat. He twitched but didn't budge.

The demon laughed. He wheeled the sword around a second time. "After countless battles, years of use, after innumerable trials, and wearing abuse," he recited, flipping the blade in circles, "no nicks, no scratches, no flaws."

The demon laid the sword in his hands and held it out. "It never dulls." He looked harder at Link. "Or does it?" He smiled. "A warrior is only as good as his sword. Did you know that, hero?"

Link glanced at the blade before turning his eyes up. He bit his lip. "That's not what Fi told me."

"Oh?" Ghirahim asked.

"It was my third day in the woods. I was telling her about Zelda and how I'd jumped after her but couldn't save her. She told me that a hero isn't forged by the weapon that he carries, but by what's in his heart."

Ghirahim's eyes started to roll. "How very charming," he said blandly. "Do you think that _I_ don't know what a heart is, human? A soul?"

Link gave a little shrug. The demon peered down, tilting the sword in his palms. "It shows how little you know, human."

Tossing all apprehension aside, Link leaped forward and grabbed the hilt. Drawing his arm across his body, he summoned as much strength as he could for a horizontal slash.

But the demon dematerialized in a flash of diamonds. Swung through empty space, the blade struck the posterior wall with a reverberating clang.

Turning away from the painful noise, Link lowered the blade and held his chest. He waited for his heartbeat to calm down.

A while had passed before he'd finished gawking at the wall in disbelief.

Seeing that he'd been left in solitude, he pondered. Where was Ghirahim? He looked across the hallway. There, the door to the upper hall, the gateway between life and death, sat silently.

But his sword was finally in his hands. At last, he felt complete, as if a vital part of his body had been returned to him. Staring into the busy room, he squeezed the hilt. It felt odd having wrapped leather against his bare skin.

He was suddenly reminded of his lack of protection. The absence of gauntlets, arm bracers, chain mail, and most importantly, a shield, left him feeling as if he was naked in a ferocious windstorm. He sighed. Such was his circumstance; he would simply have to make the best of it.

Lifting the blade, he examined it. It truly was finely crafted. He had always been grateful for its presence in the precarious Faron Woods; but the deadliness of this place was of an entirely different caliber. Here, the Goddess Sword took on a whole new meaning.

"Fi," Link said softly.

"Yes, Master?" came her familiar, comforting voice.

Sighing, he closed his eyes. "I think I know why you didn't want to tell me what my dream meant."

Fi sat hushed for a moment. "Yes, Master."

"I'm here for a reason, aren't I?"

"You are."

"I'm sorry I got so angry with you yesterday," he said. "I feel like I better say it now while I still have the chance."

"It is fine, Master."

"It's not just the dream. I was a jerk for getting annoyed when you kept telling me to go home, and when you warned me about my attitude. I know I already said it before we went in the temple, but…well, you were right. The whole time. I'm sorry for not listening."

"It is all right, Master."

Feeling better, Link straightening up. He couldn't stop staring into the empty hallway. There was nothing here. Escape might be an option. He looked back toward the door.

"You know," he said, perusing, "I just thought of this poem I studied in ninth-grade English class. I think it fits this moment pretty well." He turned his gaze away from the hall and looked to the doorway. He took a step, determined to put his best foot forward. _"__The forest is pleasant, dim and deep. Yet I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep_—_"_

"_And miles to go before I sleep_," Fi said. "Yes, I also recall this poem."

A small grin came upon Link's face as he looked at the ground. "I already know what the answer is, because I know you're not into twisting the truth, but I—"

"That is correct, Master. Prevarications are not part of my design."

Link smiled again. "Right," he said. "I know the answer, but I think I need to hear it. Is it really true that a hero is made up of what's inside, and not how great of a warrior he is?"

"There are many ways to fight a battle, Master," Fi said. "To come to blows with a physical weapon is one. To remain faithful and vigilant in the face of overwhelming opposition is another."

Still smiling, Link kept walking. "What would I do without you?" he asked. But his smile soon died out. Approaching the upper room, he saw that it had fallen silent. He no longer heard the gruff sounds of sparring. "I'm thankful for your company, Fi. I'm glad the Goddess didn't give me an empty sword."

"It has been my pleasure to serve you, Master," Fi said.

Link tried to repel his unease. "I'm happy I have someone on my side."

Taking his stance in the doorway, Link surveyed the large hall. Eyes were already on him. Lots of them. It was as if his audience had been waiting for him. "You ready for this?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," Fi said without a hint of worry.

Link scoffed a bit. "Well, at least one of us is."


	11. The Ides of March

**_A/N: This chapter was recently rewritten. There will probably be mistakes until I am able to complete the job and scour for typos._**

**WARNING:** _This chapter contains violence._

Chapter 11

The Ides of March

Link felt as though he was being led to his death—an animal brought to slaughter.

But he wasn't being led. He was walking on his own accord, sword in hand, shoulders back and head high. Aside from the Goddess Sword, the only articles he'd arrived with still remaining on his person were his leather boots. The residual dirt from the Faron Woods had all been washed away, adding to the feeling that he hadn't been there for an age.

He walked, determined to do his best against an indomitable enemy. Keeping his chin down and his eyes up, he looked several spectators in the face. The room was so quiet. His shoes scraping the floor sounded as grating as metal against stone.

The demon lord's presence had hushed everyone in attendance, from the men who had stepped hastily out of the sparring area to the onlookers. Light and warmth poured from the flambeaus lining the wall to Link's left. Flames pelted the air, climbing from silver bowls hoisted by long, swirling iron stands. The heat hit him as hard as the silence.

His heart pounded in his ears as he walked, passing by fire and demons far taller than himself. Their heads were low to offer due respect to Ghirahim, but Link could still see their dark eyes.

_They must be thinking his lordliness and_ _his lover are having a tiff._

Link looked into several sets of eyes. They were accusing. They hated him; he could feel it. They didn't understand him. He represented the Goddess's people—the very thing that they wanted nothing more than to overpower. But for what purpose? A three-millennium-old grudge?

Link took a breath and looked to the ceiling. It was high. Far higher than any of the modest structures in Skyloft. He noticed the fissures in the granite. The glow of the flames moved across the surface, bringing about shadows on the marbled stone. He would've taken the time to admire it if he'd been able.

This place was strange. It was surprisingly similar to home in many ways, yet so alien; too alien to ever feel comfortable in.

When his head came back down he saw her—an image of beauty in its most dangerous form. She was like a solar flare in all of its glory, dancing before an unprotected eye. Link fixed his gaze on her as he passed. Her right side was illuminated by the fire. The three golden hoops in her ear gleamed, reflecting orange light. Her uniform appeared even redder than before; almost the shade of deep, red wine. The color of blood.

Several feet away, Link saw her lips move. Maybe she was trying to tell him something.

He squinted, giving her his full attention. She repeated the phrase. Five words. She said it again, stressing the first word.

_Beware…?_ Link thought, shrugging. She sighed and tilted her head, a meager grin spreading across her face. Her voluptuous lips moved slowly, communicating something cryptic.

Thanks to her final reiteration he realized what it was she was saying. He stared until she disappeared into the crowd. Still walking, he faced forward. "Beware the…Ides of March," he murmured. After a few seconds of rumination a ripple of anger ran through him. He crushed the sword's hilt in his palm. What a maddening woman—a Valkyrie.

Rounding a bend through the people, Link slowed. The battle arena was directly ahead. From where he stood, he couldn't see his opponent but he knew he was there. He looked around. Granitic pillars around the sparring floor stretched to the ceiling like monuments, perhaps for the victims of misfortune.

The demons' stares were unceasing. Link tried not to look at them anymore, but it was nearly impossible to ignore something so probing. They seemed especially interested in his eyes. Perhaps their color and shape seemed strange. To them they probably radiated exoticism. His sun-kissed skin also was a thing unseen in this realm.

Still, it was odd to be sized up by so many people at once. They sized up not only him but the Goddess Sword. The scores of eyes seemed to look upon it with contempt. Had some of these demons been present in battle that fateful day, so long ago?

The hate in the room was oppressive. Resolute to not be brought down by it, Link focused on the sparring ring.

_They don't matter. They're faceless._

He approached the peristyle. Crossing the threshold between the crowd and the arena, he imagined a wall. He passed between two pillars, arresting in their sheer size and magnificence. The perfection in their striations was undeniable.

He looked ahead. Just as he emerged between the columns, he saw him. He was patiently waiting in the middle of the floor with hands behind him and a smile on his face. The contrast of light and shadow made him seem even bigger. He looked taller and more muscular.

Link lowered his chin and centered his eyes on him. He took a step. Ghirahim's air of happiness appeared to grow. Link thumbed the leather on his hilt. He abhorred this creature. He was sure his own repugnance overtopped that of all the demons put together.

This space within the circle of pillars—the place in his dream—was enormous. It was just as imposing as the first time he'd seen it. Perhaps more so. Or maybe it was an illusion created by fear.

Link inhaled, then slowly let it go. Now wasn't the time to be bogged down by fear.

It felt as though hundreds of steps had been taken by the time he'd finally reached his challenger. With a twirl of the Goddess Sword, he planted his feet about five yards from the demon.

He lifted his cunning, gloved hands. His head bowed a bit. His dark eyes gleamed and his grin widened.

Link glared with unyielding eyes.

"Ah," Ghirahim said in his deep, plummy voice, "my hero." He stood with his arms out. Link waited silently. "Are you ready for your baptism of fire, sky child?" He took a step forward. His pristine shoe brushed the floor. Link stood his ground. "Have you thought any more about what I spoke to you about? Have you reconsidered?" His examining eyes closed in. They quickly met harsh resistance.

"Mmm. I suppose not," Ghirahim said, stepping to the side. He set off at a slow pace around Link, orbiting him like a stellar body. Link watched him as if he might go supernova. He concentrated on the demon's hands.

"It's not too late to change your mind, hero," Ghirahim assured him. "In fact, it's _never_ too late. The opportunity lingers, waiting to be picked up." His voice was as silky smooth as his expression was deadly serious. Link rotated along with him, holding him on point. "Don't forget it, hero."

Continuing to circle, the demon looked thoughtfully at his feet. "Well, the first phase has come and gone. Do you remember? First, we discuss a few things. We've certainly done plenty of that." His head swiveled as he gave Link a stern glance. "And seeing as though my generous proposal was not to your liking, clearly we must move on."

All eyes were on the pair. Volatility was all Link could feel.

"So, what comes next, my winsome human?" Ghirahim smiled at Link's silence. "Ah, brought this evening full circle, have we? Choosing not to speak? Are you even aware of _why_ you're able to vocalize without that searing ache in your throat? Or have you forgotten the pain already?" Link swallowed, noticing that his throat did feel relatively normal. "Well, being in the position that I am, under normal circumstances I'd expect a thank-you. But I have a sneaking suspicion that you'll soon be well-acquainted with being on your knees before me, so…" The demon turned his head away. "I'll let it slide."

Link wasn't sure which was worse—diving carelessly into a fight or waiting on the edge of one. Fear did strange things to a person, and a knight was not immune. Maybe this was Ghirahim's tactic.

"Phase two," the demon said, still strolling. "A deal, hero. We make an arrangement before we fight. Come to an agreement. You would be wise to accept as I believe you will find it to be your only option." After a few more self-assured steps, he shot Link a brazen smile.

Then he vanished, leaving behind nothing but a flashy trail of diamonds. Link spun, looking behind him. He twisted and turned, searching the area for his opponent. But all he saw were the accusing eyes of spectators.

He looked at the flames along a distant wall. He immediately wondered how he was going to claim victory over a contender such as this. What was this deal he mentioned?

As his gaze rose, he came upon a familiar sight: a balcony projecting from an adjacent wall. It sat over the upper hall's entryway. He realized that this recognizable terrace had been his place of observance in his dream. There, he had witnessed his own death. He blinked, half-expecting to see a young blond man gawking fretfully.

Then, two hands crept over his shoulders. Throwing his head up with a gasp, he looked to his left to find the demon's face. His sinister smirk was so close, Link could feel it.

"Listen carefully, sky child," Ghirahim said softly. "Here is what I'm offering you. First, you try your luck with teaching me a lesson, just as I know you've been dying to do. In fact, to even the playing field I'll fight you _sans_ magic. It will be a fun game, sky child. I promise you." The demon laid into Link's shoulders, massaging them and brushing his ear. He shuddered. "If you win, I'll leave your little friend alone." Link's eyes widened at the demon's words. He glanced over his shoulder, waiting for more.

"That's right," Ghirahim said, sweeping his mouth across Link's azurite earring. He chewed his tongue. "If you defeat me, I will stop my pursuit of the spirit maiden. She and her guardian will no longer have to run from me. In fact, you will be free to take her home without any danger of retaliation from myself or _anyone_. In addition, the threat of war against the sky realm will cease to exist. At least for the length of your lifetime."

Ghirahim curled his fingers around Link's neck, running his hands over his collarbone. His fingertips pressed to Link's chest as he drew him closer.

Link breathed in sharply, feeling his back drawn to Ghirahim's body.

"But if you _lose_…" the demon said with a gravelly whisper. Link tilted his head away. "If you lose then I am free to continue my pursuit, and you will owe me something."

Link looked around, perplexed. "What will I owe you?" he asked, his voice tenuous.

Ghirahim grinned. "Oh, you'll find out. When the time comes."

Link shut his eyes, trying to pretend that he wasn't in the demon's grasp. "How can I agree to something like that?"

"Patience, my hero, patience," Ghirahim chirred coolly, running his hands down.

Link's breathing quickened. He instinctively swung his sword up.

But the weapon stopped mid-swing. Link gaped, wondering what had obstructed the blade so swiftly. Panting, he looked up to see his enemy's fingers wrapped around it.

Link stared in disbelief. _How…?_ he asked himself. He looked the demon in the face. As if his pleased grin had commanded it, Link turned red. He faced forward again. "And what if I refuse?" he asked, shutting his eyes.

"Then I give you everything I've got, hero," the demon stated. "I fight you trenchantly, sparing no expense. It will be beautiful music to my ears…and a beautiful sight to my eyes." His hand slowly dropped, nearing Link's waist. "And exactly what my hands have been waiting for."

Link clutched the demon's arm with both hands, tossed it away and jumped back. With a racing heart he turned just in time to catch the tip of his own blade against his throat.

"You're much too easy to distract," Ghirahim said. He licked his lips and cocked his head, eyeing Link with ferocity. He held his breath. A stab of shame even sharper than the blade hit him in the stomach. "So, how does it _feel_, sky child?" the demon asked.

Link looked him in the eye. "How does _what_ feel?" he asked. His shoulders tensed as the demon inched closer, bringing their bodies together. Ghirahim slid an arm around the small of Link's back.

The demon's touch made it harder to breathe than the cold metal against his throat. He stared up in horror, at a loss. Ghirahim's smile was even bigger. His fingers were moving against his back. The demon pulled him closer. Their bodies rubbed.

The oddest sensation Link had ever felt filled him. Alarmed, he hustled out of the demon's arms. Hopping back, he glowered.

Ghirahim chuckled, his body swaying with his gleeful snickers. His fingers flexed with excitement. Link gave an angry sigh. He turned his gaze to the captive Goddess Sword.

"Well, what say you, hero?" Ghirahim asked.

Link stood aloof. He gaped at the demon, unsure of what to say or what not to say. Perhaps saying nothing was best.

"No time to dither, sky child. Why don't you show me what you've got?" He chortled. "Also, bear in mind that you can always default." The demon took a small step. "In which case, this pact will be null and void."

This time Link had no trouble finding the right words. "I'm not joining you," he said.

Ghirahim sniggered. "What will your fugacious life be as you struggle to contend against _me_, the Demon Lord, sky child? Hmm?" He took another step. "Will your cardinal virtues—prudence, temperance, fortitude and justice—really be enough?" As he put another foot forward, Link took a step back. "Will the motif of your life be failure? Will guilt, doubt and misplaced confidence be the ruin of the hero?"

Link flinched at the demon's loud, histrionic tone.

"Will this privileged, exalted character of high repute fall from glory into suffering?" Link gaured at the demon's gracefully moving hands as he backed away.

"Will your life be a black comedy, hero? One in which everyone around you will laugh and sneer at your misfortunes? Will it be a tragedy, depicting the downfall of a noble knight as he succumbs to his frailties? Or perhaps your precious Goddess will simply strike you down in all of your planned obsolescence."

Link shook his head and looked to his sword again.

"Perhaps a tragicomedy, humorous throughout but with a dastardly ending. Or a satire? A work that magnifies the very plethora of weaknesses and failings within you which will lead to the destruction of mankind?"

"None of them," Link said quietly.

Ghirahim smiled. "You're right in a way. It doesn't have to be any of them."

"No," Link said obstinately. "I won't join you. But..." He paused, shutting his eyes. "I'll...agree to your terms."

Link heard Ghirahim laugh softly. When he opened his eyes, he saw an amused grin. "So be it, hero. If this is what you want…" The demon pointed the sword at him. "Then I think it's time I show you the true meaning of the phrase, 'bloody hell'."

Ghirahim hurled the Goddess Sword so hard that Link had almost no time to dodge it. He spun around, immediately hearing a shrill clank as the blade crashed to the floor. Before the weapon even settled he jumped for it, swooped down and grabbed the hilt.

He stood eying his adversary. Angry at the way he'd been given his weapon, he was still grateful to have it back. Looking at his shining blade, his certitude resurged.

With or without armor, he was _going_ to do this. This demon—all of these demons—needed to be shown that this human was not a weakling; that _all_ humans weren't weaklings, and that mankind was a powerful force, unafraid to defend itself and ready to fight for what was right. Always.

Zelda needed him to give it his all. And he would do nothing less.

Link assumed a battle stance. With arms down, his sword up and his expression unwavering, he watched.

His enemy's weapon was drawn. Its handle was gold and curved; its blade was long and thin. It was clearly a much lighter-weighted weapon than the Goddess Sword. Link shook his head, knowing that this was far from a fair match. But with no say in the matter, he went straight to work planning ahead for the discrepancy.

It suddenly struck him that this was what should have happened in the Skyview Temple. This fight felt so much more than just one day overdue. It seemed like an eternity. And with each passing day, Zelda felt further and further out of his reach.

If only he hadn't gotten so sick. He really should've listened to Fi. Having to endure this place and all of this madness was really his own fault.

Ghirahim's pleased expression suggested he knew exactly what Link was thinking. He wouldn't have been surprised. He answered the demon's smirk with determination.

No matter how he'd gotten here, this moment was all that mattered. If the demon wanted a real fight then he would get one.

Link shuffled around him. Ghirahim stayed put, quietly observing.

"Fi," Link said softly, "have any advice for me?"

"Ghirahim is capricious," Fi replied. "Expect his tactics to change throughout the course of the engagement. He is highly skilled, sleight of hand and very quick. His encounters typically do not last long. Classically, his opponents are promptly disabled."

"I already know he's unpredictable and agile, Fi," Link said. "Got anything else?"

"Be prepared for anything, Master," Fi said. Link shook his head. Still, he had a strange feeling that Fi was more intimately versed in the demon's fighting style than she was letting on.

If this was the case then Ghirahim would have already taken Fi's knowledge into account. If he was smart he would simply do the opposite of what Fi was likely to say. Then again, maybe he wouldn't. Perhaps there was little point in consulting Fi any further right now. 'Be prepared for anything' was good enough for him.

Raring to go, and with a slew of do's-and-do-nots of swordplay going through his head, Link was the first to step forward. He looked at the demon in a different way now; a way that came naturally and had nothing to do with fear. He considered points of interest and prime targets. Ghirahim's rapier would be easier to maneuver. But the demon would have to work harder to parry the heavier Goddess Sword. Aiming for an opponent's leg was always a good idea. Incapacitating his fighting arm was even better.

Link's strategizing came to a stop. Why did he feel so off? He looked the demon in the eye.

Link had participated in so many fights that he'd lost track of the amount long ago. But this was a duel to the death. Not only was this terribly grave, but it involved fighting someone who he knew…sort of. The demon wasn't his friend by any means of course, but still. Not wanting to dwell on the issue, Link brushed it off.

Ghirahim couldn't look happier as Link approached him. The Goddess Sword came up, passing cautiously before his eyes with a flash.

In an instant the sword and rapier had clashed, filling the hall with a noise so sharp it hurt Link's ears.

"So it begins," Ghirahim said with exhilaration. He swiftly counterattacked with an even stronger blow. Raising his sword, Link blocked the strike, shoving the demon's rapier away. Taking a breath, he swung the blade from right to left, slashing the demon across the torso. With the arc of his strike complete, Link jumped back.

Flinching and leaning over, Ghirahim dropped his head. Breathing heavily, Link watched. He seemed to be assessing the damage, which constituted a sizable gash. Why did it seem like he cared more about his clothing than his injury? Link was further mystified by the grin that he saw.

With a torrent of thoughts trying to disrupt his concentration, Link circled his enemy once more, holding his hands low and his sword up. Ghirahim turned with him, keeping his weapon just as high.

With a fierce jumping thrust, Link aimed for the demon's chest. But he dodged, demonstrating the lightning-quick reflexes that Link had expected. A lot could be learned from an opponent's first defensive move. The scope of his enemy's skill was making itself known.

A preemptive strike by Ghirahim tested Link's reflexes right back. Shuffling away, he blocked his torso with the blade. Another strident clang sounded as Link summoned all of his strength to protect himself.

He barely had enough to time to breathe when the demon came at him again, sending him stumbling back. Link grunted, almost losing his footing.

Angry at himself, he parried with a strained shout, feeling his face redden. When his opponent was sent back a few steps, he let his breath out.

Allowing his enemy no opportunity to collect himself, Link shot forward and slashed, but missed. He swung again but was blocked. With a growl he made a third attempt, landing a hit and adding another tear to the demon's clothing.

Ghirahim stumbled to the side but immediately returned with a forward jab. Twisting his shoulder away, Link barely evaded the needle-like tip.

"You're quicker than most, hero," Ghirahim said, breathing heavier. His eyes sparkled and his face beamed with delight. "So, why diamonds, sky child? I'm sure you're wondering what the diamond motif is about. What are your thoughts?"

Lunging, Ghirahim took a hurried swing. The only thing that didn't escape fast enough was the excess linen on Link's shirt. He took a glimpse at the hole over his chest. The demon giggled. "No material—metal or gem—makes a sharper weapon, sky child. Has anyone else succeeded as profoundly as I in cutting you to your very core?"

Link glowered. "Yes. But I like it when she does it."

Ghirahim's smile darkened. "Touché, sky child."

Link suddenly jabbed his blade, sinking an inch of it into the demon's shoulder. Ghirahim jerked back with a guttural growl. Amazed that he'd landed such a vicious blow so early, Link stared. The demon grabbed his shoulder.

Link looked at the wound. Why wasn't he bleeding?

The smile had been wiped off Ghirahim's face, but not for long. It returned larger than before. Link couldn't shake the feeling that the demon really was enjoying this.

"Would it bother you to know that the spirit maiden cries herself to sleep every night on your account?" Ghirahim asked, stiffly dropping his hand.

Link's face softened. "What? How would you know that?"

"I know more than you realize." Ghirahim straightened himself. "How does it feel to desert the one who counts on you?"

Link gasped at the sight of the rapier hurtling toward him. He blocked the weapon, but not without pain shooting through his wrists. He groaned at the floor, wishing his hands had the protection of thick leather.

With his sword as his only shield, he defended against several more blows. Ghirahim's strength was immense, and each swing landed more powerfully than the next.

Strangest of all was how eerily happy his adversary was. As Link's wrists cramped and his eyes watered, he stared into Ghirahim's dark eyes. He started to think they were more piercing than his weapon. They were certainly more frightening.

Twirling away from a deadly jab, Link brought his sword up and cut straight through the demon's upper arm. Link drew back and stared at the tattered red velvet. Did he really just do that? As accustomed as he was to harmless sparring matches, this didn't feel right at all. He would've expected the demon to cry out in pain, and maybe even fall, but neither happened. What was going on here?

Ghirahim's nonchalant expression was so out-of-place. "When the war was over and the battles had ceased, he still came to me, sky child," he said in a breathy voice.

Link's face twisted in confusion. "What?"

"Your predecessor, hero. The one in green whom you read about in your sacred texts. It's uncanny how much you look and sound just like him. But will your spirit shatter like his eventually did?" His grin was malicious.

"What?" Link couldn't wrap his mind around it.

Then, a burning pain like he'd never felt hit him in the lower leg and climbed up to his ribcage. He shouted, dropped his sword and doubled over. He frantically searched the afflicted area.

Small red daggers—four of them had embedded from his ankle to his chest. His mouth fell open. He watched in horror as blood seeped through his pants and shirt, leaving dark, growing stains.

"Seems the hero got a little distracted," Ghirahim said mockingly.

Link gawked at his injuries some more, coming to terms with what just happened. How had the tables turned so quickly? Dizzy from shock, he gritted his teeth, hating himself for playing straight into the demon's hands.

Trying to curb his anguished panting, he reached down, pinching the shard by his ankle. Grimacing, he tore it from his skin. His knees shook and tears fell, but he held back the agonized cry. Grasping the dagger by his knee, he held his breath. _Do it fast. Do it fast…!_ He pulled and clutched his wound.

Biting his tongue, he counted to three and ripped the last two daggers out simultaneously. "Mmm…" he moaned angrily. Two unbearably sharp stabs shot through him. Still hunched over, he held his leg and chest. Blinding pain mixed with the feeling of matted, sticky clothing.

He bent to pick up his sword, but his hands were trembling. He thought he heard a chuckle. After retrieving his blade, he stood. Ghirahim was blatantly admiring Link's blood-soaked clothes. He seemed excited by it. Link winced, shifted his weight away from the injury and tried not to take too deep of a breath.

Never before had he made such an ignorant mistake during a fight. It definitely topped any mistakes he'd made with the stalhound.

_Refocus. Don't let him get the better of you._

He did his best to will the pain away. His throat was so dry he could barely swallow. He shook his head, hoping to the Goddess that the bleeding would stop.

Without warning, Ghirahim lunged forward. Link jumped back, bashing the demon's weapon to the right, then to the left. Ignoring the blazing pain in his side was nigh impossible.

After one last parry, Link counterattacked, swinging sideways, then vertically, grazing the demon's face from forehead to chin. A deep scratch was drawn, but no blood was.

The demon swung his head away. When his gaze returned to Link, he appeared more angry than pleased. "I think it's time to raze your fragile little ego to the ground, hero," he gnarled, his eyes beginning to change.

Slipping behind him, Link edged away. He observed as the demon threw his rapier. It flipped through the air and hit the floor, skidding outside of the peristyle. He looked back at Link.

The demon made his way toward him. Confused, Link held fast to his position. His heart beat heavier. He had no idea what to expect. He blinked, suddenly feeling lightheaded. How much blood had he lost?

Standing still left him lethargic—the last thing he needed right now. So instead of waiting for the inevitable, he decided to meet it head-on. He set off, running so fast that the breeze winnowed his hair. A weaponless enemy couldn't skewer him in midair so Link jumped, swinging his sword over his head. With a ferocious holler he knocked the demon back, dragging the edge of the blade along his body. The motion was rapid and satisfying.

Now Link had finally gotten the better of _him_. With a gratified grin he prepared for another strike, aiming for the demon's neck.

Renewed eagerness drove Link's swing. The blade landed not on target, however, but in the demon's hand. Link pulled but the blade didn't move. He stared in bewilderment. Ghirahim was smiling as though he'd caught a fly ball. His gloves were sliced but there was still no blood.

Link huffed in frustration. This wasn't fair. It made no sense! He'd secured several good hits on his enemy. Anyone would've been put out of action by now. But this demon was still standing, still fighting back, and still smiling.

_Why isn't it shredding his hand? _ Link's face turned bleak.

"You're right annoying, hero," Ghirahim said, removing the Goddess Sword from Link's hands. The young man struggled, desperate to not lose his weapon again. The demon just chuckled. Red-faced and sweating, Link gripped the hilt with all of his might until he felt his feet leave the floor.

The struggle ended as Link was lifted. He gaped, face-to-face with his enemy and that same sinister smile. He knew Ghirahim was strong, but able to lift a person single-handedly? By the business end of a sword, no less?

"This is just a game to you," Link said crossly, trying to keep his feet from dangling too much. "You can't lose. How is this fair?" His hands were tired and aching.

"Who said it was going to be fair, human?" Ghirahim snarled, bringing Link's face closer. "And who said you had even a miniscule chance of winning? No. I am teaching you a lesson."

Using his other hand, the demon crushed Link's wrists together. The hilt was brutally seized from him. He gasped as it slipped away. The sword changed hands once again.

Link abruptly found himself bound before Ghirahim. Just like the first time. But this time was worse—he was hanging. Trying to touch the floor, he swung, fed up with the demon's grin. All he could do was stare at him, helpless and demeaned. Ghirahim was much too pleased.

Link felt the edge of the blade against his palm. He looked up, horrified.

"Have you ever had a dream come true, sky child?" Ghirahim whispered. Link turned his nervous eyes to him. "While you're thinking about that, I'll ask you this: how does it feel?"

Link's heart was pounding so hard he could barely speak. "Why do you keep asking that?" He didn't want to know, but he asked anyway. "How does what feel?" The question faded into silence.

With a mad look in his eye, Ghirahim dragged the edge of the blade along Link's hand. His entire body shuddered and curled as his skin was cut. He shouted in agony, trying to wrench his wrists apart. But the demon was too strong. Seeing spots, Link watched a stream of red drip down his arms.

Panting and shivering, Link looked at his enemy, whose face seemed to have melted.

Trembling, Link hung his head. His arms hurt and his hand was on fire. The pain was excruciating. He breathed, determined not to shed another tear. The demon would probably like that even more.

"How fitting that you were outfitted in green, sky child," Ghirahim said. "To be sure, I've never seen anyone more immature in the battle arena." With that, he let go of Link's wrists.

He hit the floor with a thump, landing on his hands and knees before rolling to his stomach. Laying his face to the cold floor, he sighed in relief, looking at his enemy's shoes. His right side still stung and burned and his hand throbbed with a hurt that was entirely unfathomable. He shut his eyes. He didn't want to move, but he had to. He certainly couldn't stay at Ghirahim's feet.

"Did I not tell you when you arrived that you wouldn't be leaving here with your pride intact, human?"

Shaking, Link slowly crawled away from the demon. He felt cold and fatigued. He prepared to climb to his feet, disgusted by the feel of his bloody clothes. He gazed at the coating of blood on the blade in the demon's hand. It unfortunately was not his opponent's.

This fight to the death was not going well.

Ghirahim flipped the sword and offered the hilt to Link. He looked up questioningly.

He felt so humiliated. Ghirahim claimed he'd be on his knees before him, and he was. And so many people were watching.

No longer desiring to fight an enemy whom he had no chance of defeating, Link reluctantly reached out.

"Other hand, hero," Ghirahim said coldly. Link stopped, looking at the gaping wound on his right hand. He lifted his left. "Well, isn't this a familiar sight? Where have we seen this before? A left-handed hero?" Ghirahim placed his hands on his hips and smiled. "Someone here must have the gift of foresight."

There was nothing but silence for a time. Link glowered at the wall, refusing to look Ghirahim in the eye. With his sword in the wrong hand, he was furious.

"Come on, sky child," Ghirahim said invitingly. "Why don't you give it your best shot? Try that left hand out. You never know. Perhaps using your other hand will bring out an unknown talent." Still looking away, Link clambered to his feet. He was certain he'd heard a few spectators snicker. "And that cut sure looks painful." The demon took a step, bringing himself uncomfortably close to Link. More lightheaded now, he looked up. "So do those flesh wounds on your body. I can help, you know."

"I know what you're trying to do," Link said. "It's not gonna work…" He took an uneven breath, grimacing from the ache. It was consuming him from the inside out. Ghirahim brought a hand up and tenderly brushed the stray hairs out of his face. He flinched.

"Come now, hero. Defiance does not become you." He turned the young man's face toward him, making firm eye contact. "You will suffer far more painful, far more humiliating, and far worse things if you refuse an alliance with me. I give you my word on that."

Link tightened his grip and stepped back. "Your word means nothing to me."

Ghirahim leaned down, taking Link's face in his hands again. The demon's fingers played lightly with his hair. Looking into his eyes, Link didn't move.

Ghirahim leaned in closer, brushing Link's mouth against his. "Then why aren't you fighting me?" The question was soft and seductive. "Your sword is at the ready. Go ahead. Use it—if you don't want this."

Relief tingled on Link's lips. A state of painlessness sat right in front of him. All of the bruises, the cuts, the dizziness, the throbbing and burning—it would all be taken. And he wanted so much to give it.

For a moment the audience disappeared. It was just the demon, Link, and the decision that had to be made. But was it really so hard?

Holding him, the demon tilted his head. Was he asking permission? Link's mouth opened on its own.

The demon neared. Link shut his eyes and gave an outward gasp. Ghirahim's pull eased, but Link was reluctant to look at him. His eyelids inched up.

The demon's expression was…. It was….

Just having the demon this near made Link's pain diminish. Relaxing just slightly, he looked at Ghirahim's mouth. He came closer and Link jerked back. But he soon felt so pleasant that his eyes shut and everything loosened.

The demon's tongue slid into his mouth. Slipping pride was soon forgotten as the agony was siphoned from him. His head fell to the side. He was sure he was floating on a cloud. As the pain dissipated, his hand, his side and the cut on his neck felt wonderfully cold. He'd never experienced such a glorious reprieve.

Inhaling deeply, he breathed in the demon's essence, filling his lungs to capacity. He exhaled, giving Ghirahim a long, soft moan.

The demon clasped his shoulders. His touch felt different. His embrace didn't feel like a simple energy transfer anymore. It felt so much better.

Then, Ghirahim pulled away, leaving Link gasping from more sensations than he could even begin to sort through. A gentle shake urged his gaze up. The demon's authoritative eyes demanded his undivided attention.

"Well, sky child?" he asked, squeezing him tightly.

Still dazed from overstimulation, Link shifted his weight. He felt breathless. It would've been a lie to say that it was a bad feeling. "I—" he started.

The demon's brow furrowed. He searched Link's face.

"I—" Link breathed. "I…can't."

Silence filled the sparring ring.

Fed up, Ghirahim nabbed the bloodied Goddess Sword and pushed him away. Link gaped at the floor.

"Then I've got one last lesson for you, hero," the demon stated. "It's something that I teach every one of my opponents. Because there is nothing, _nothing_ more humbling than this. Are you ready?"

Link stood quietly, befuddled and overpowered. He had taken a gamble with the enemy and lost. He sighed, feeling guilty that his pain had subsided.

"I'll ask you one final time, sky child." The tip of the sword danced just inches from him. "How does it feel?"

Link didn't look up. "How does what feel…?" he murmured.

Ghirahim chuckled. "Why, to be on the other end of the sword, of course." A churlish smirk formed on his lips. "But, more specifically, the other end of your _own_ sword. Doesn't feel too good, does it?"

Link's gaze stayed on his feet. He shrugged.

Ghirahim shook his head disapprovingly. "I don't think you truly understand the art of being humbled, hero. The glimmer of insolence in your eyes can vouch for that. Ergo, we're not quite finished yet."

Link's eyes came up. "What do you me—"

But he never finished his sentence. The Goddess Sword had flown forward with the speed of one bent on another's destruction. He didn't even have time to cry out as the blade pierced flesh and bone. At last, it exited through his back.

His jaw dropped and his eyes flared. In the most suffocating pain imaginable, he lifted his hands to his chest and looked down. He'd been stabbed clean through. Blood was surrounding the wound. He tried to take a breath, but couldn't. He started to shiver. His hand came up to the demon.

Ghirahim pulled back, withdrawing the blade from his body. Link grabbed his chest and shouted. The scream that escaped him resembled nothing that had ever come from him before. The cry echoed about the hall.

In shock, he bent over, watching his blood drip to the floor. Gasping, he crumpled to his knees. Choking, he convulsed, slumping further.

Ghirahim stood unmoving. His face blanked as he kept watch over the human.

"I ne—" Link tried to say. Ghirahim cocked his head as he listened. "I never…told her."

Blood trickled from Link's mouth as he stared at the floor. With no strength left he fell to his side. Squeezing his chest, he struggled to take a breath. The pain was too much. A crimson pool formed beneath him. His vision began to fade.

Getting down on one knee, Ghirahim took hold of Link's shirt. He flipped him onto his back. Drowning from the inside, Link couldn't utter another sound. He turned his darkening eyes to Ghirahim as he slowly writhed.

The demon stared him squarely in the eye. "Join me, and I will save you, hero," he whispered. Link's eyes flipped back-and-forth. Clutching himself, he shook his head.

Ghirahim looked at him quietly, his hand forming into a fist. "Very well. Hear me, human." He stood to his feet. Link forced himself to look. "A hero is _only_ as good as his sword."

Link watched helplessly as the demon raised his sword in the air. With a fearsome growl, he thrust the blade down, stabbing the young man through once more. His body lurched as the sword was driven in, depleting him.

Furious, the demon pulled the red blade free, leaving the hero's body battered and limp. Turning away, he lifted the sword again. Blood dripped down his hands and arms, staining his pale clothes. He leaned forward and hurled the blade to the floor with such monstrous force that it cracked from top to bottom. The deafening sound of splitting metal rang through the building.

With one final strike, the sword of the Goddess was no more. It broke into four pieces. The shards shot into the air, scattering hopelessly about and adding to the clamor.

Holding up the empty hilt, Ghirahim took a relieved breath. He smiled.

Then he remembered the human. His smile disappeared. He leaned over. The human's movements seemed to have ceased.

Ghirahim knelt again. Resting his arm on his knee, he brought his face before Link. The human's eyes were closed. His hands rested upon a motionless chest. He was gone. Ghirahim pursed his lips and shook his head.

"A shame it had to end this way, sky child…"


	12. Secrets and Sacrifice

Chapter 12

Secrets and Sacrifice

He walked the dark corridors of the temple, deep in thought, waiting for the time to pass. As he paced through the twisting network of passages, he consulted quietly with his Master, both telepathically and verbally. As he communicated with his voice and his mind, his fingers settled upon the ruby-colored, diamond-shaped jewel on his right hip. With his fingers caressing the precious stone, he strode leisurely through the gloomy corridors and over-sized rooms of a forest shrine which was almost as old as time itself.

The parts of the temple that were in ruins housed nothing but dead vegetation, long devoid of life. Ramshackle windows allowed for meager streams of light to pass through, but for naught. The trees and vines creeping along the floors and walls required rays of sunlight no more than a corpse needed sustenance. At the same time, certain sections of this dichotomous sanctuary were teeming with life.

Inhabiting the dankest of alcoves were the keese. The small, bat-like creatures kept to themselves unless an unfamiliar, and unsuspecting being decided to wander through, arousing their interest. Skulltulas, being solitary beasts, positioned themselves sparsely throughout the temple. With light-footed movements, the demon admired the arachnids from afar. Fortunately, every one of these critters, both large and small, were obtemperate to his every word and command.

The human, however, had not even made it far enough into the temple to see what sorts of life forms were kept here…

Traversing ledges which overlooked sparkling pools, he thought about his Master's disapproval. Studying the ancient trees, a silent testament to the structure's age, he contemplated the sword spirit. She was here now. It had been a long, long time. Many years had she slept inside the weapon of the Goddess, just waiting, faithfully waiting…for him.

Reminiscence turned to nostalgia. Lighthearted ponderings turned to gripping jealousy. Was it happening again? Surely not, seeing as though the spirit's ability to _feel_ had been filched from her. Well, perhaps not stolen, per se, but taken, upon her irrevocable consignment. Certainly this would disallow her from making the same mistake again with _this_ hero…

How maddening. What was it about these heroes in green, anyway? This never ending string of golden-haired humans who everyone seemed to revere, _almost_ deify, and love…including the sword spirit? Why such a ubiquitous need to bend over backwards for these little ankle-biters whose main purpose in life was to foil the plans of one greater than themselves? It was ludicrous.

And now, the human was here, resting after his ordeal. Ghirahim had waited for hours for the human to awaken. The demon had been unsure about what to do with him, as no amount of stimulation, magical or physical, seemed to be enough to rouse him. So, he allowed him to sleep.

How surprised he would be when he finally opened his eyes…

Suddenly, the demon heard an unexpected skittering. Standing high above a shallow wading pool full of small aquatic creatures, his head shot up. His sensitive ears picked up the nearly unnoticeable sound. His black eyes searched the immediate area. The sound did not appear to be that of a keese, or deku baba, or even a stray bokoblin who had wandered too far from the temple entrance.

He couldn't quite place the curious noise, however. So, with a preen of his snowy hair, he sighed. He looked in the direction of the chamber which led to the Skyview Spring. If something, or _someone_, had indeed infiltrated this temple, then they would not evade his keen perception for very long.

Marveling at the impressively uncorrupted leather on his forearms, he lifted his fingers and prepared to transport. Looking around the large room once more, the demon sensed someone's presence. His eyes continued to search, but the rustling he had heard was long gone. Unconcerned, he snapped his finger and thumb, grinning as he thought of what he was going to do with the credulous human…

….

With one foot against the stone wall behind him, Ghirahim leaned back. He gazed upon him-the sleeping hero. With one arm resting on the other, he stroked his chin thoughtfully.

He looked so serene laying there, with his cheek resting against the floor, and his hands splayed around his head. His eyes were shut, and he was quite still.

His fern-green tunic and knight's cap were spotless, aside from a bit of the usual dirt which was a forest dweller's constant companion. His two leather pouches hung firmly from his belt, the exact place where they had originally been. Earlier, Ghirahim had taken the liberty of using the human's wooden shield for target practice, _inadvertently_ shattering it into about five-hundred tiny pieces, for the purpose of killing time, of course.

The demon's shoulders bounced lightly as he silently chuckled. Surely the human wouldn't be _too_ disappointed over the loss. After all, the ragged piece of wood could have almost been declared decrepit, not to mention that it had been sacrificed in the honorable name of entertainment. It had been ridiculously close to breaking, anyway. Those forest bokoblins certainly did one hell of a job on it. With a small grin, Ghirahim shook his head.

It had been quite some time since he had seen the young man on his feet…or conscious. With the human extraordinarily resistant to being broken from his slumber, the demon had abandoned his efforts to wake him, leaving him in his state of restfulness. When the demon wasn't wandering about aimlessly to aid the passage of time, he quietly observed the hero. He beheld the human as his back rose and fell with each slow, deep breath. Every once in a while he would appear to shudder, making the demon wonder what he was dreaming about.

Ghirahim looked around the large, open area as the silence echoed. The only true sounds that his senses picked up were the trickling of water and flowing of waterfalls from the Skyview Spring, accompanied by the chirping of small birds and the buzzing of insects. Not the most patient of creatures, the demon tapped his foot, flicking his dark tongue back and forth inside of his mouth. His eyes landed on the human once more. He took a small step, inching forward.

Upon reaching the prone body beneath him, the demon peered downward with his arms crossed over his broad chest. Lowering himself onto one knee, he placed a palm onto the floor by the human's face. At the demon's approach, the human almost appeared to react, flinching ever so slightly in his sleep. Ghirahim's other hand came forward to free his forehead from the sight of wispy, unruly hair. He twitched again under the demon's touch. Ghirahim leaned further down, bringing his pale face directly to the peaceful, unmoving human. His thoughtful frown transformed into a pleased smile.

"_You_, hero, are going to have a hard time forgetting me," he said with a whisper, twirling a golden lock before sending his fingertip coursing down the softly pointed ear. Pulling their faces together, the demon inhaled, absorbing the hero's unique scent. The human shivered.

Suddenly, a deep, stabbing pain burst through the demon's back, pushing him violently forward. Dropping onto all fours above the human, Ghirahim tensed every part of his body, a look of shock glazing over his face. Lowering his neck, he spotted the tip of a thick, silver blade which had been driven through his chest. Attempting to raise his head, he growled. Furious and disorientated, his mind raced. The pain increased.

With a forceful jerk, the blade was withdrawn, leaving the demon lurching upward before crashing back down onto his hands and knees. As the harsh sound of metal against metal ricocheted off of the walls, he squeezed his fists and eyes shut. The human underneath him gave a light stir.

Resting on his knuckles, Ghirahim grinded his teeth, completely enraged. His large eyes opened as he gazed at the crested door at the end of the room. He had allowed distraction to impede his ability to sense the advance of an attacker…

With a wave of pure hatred washing over every part of him, he placed a lavishly dressed foot onto the floor, leaning his weight onto his knee. With an effortful push, he drove his svelte yet muscular body upward. Noticing the soft sound of feet moving lightsomely away, his discomfort began to fade. His grimace lessened, melting into a diabolic smile. Whoever had made the grave mistake of storming this chamber, let alone entering the temple _at all_, was going to pay…dearly.

Turning only his head, Ghirahim peeked over his shoulder. Bunched red velvet obscured everything on his face except for his menacing eyes. Viewing the one behind him for a moment, he rotated his body and faced forward. When he saw the bewildered face of the young man before him, he smiled even more.

Another medium built human. He was somewhat bigger than the hero, was slightly broader-shouldered, and darker-haired. He was taller by several inches, but still far shorter than the demon.

Ghirahim didn't make a sound as he examined him. His outfit was far different than the hero's. This human's boots were made of much darker leather. His pants bore a curious design. His tunic and hat were of an entirely dissimilar shade. The goldenrod hue of the woolen material was rather easy on the eyes, especially when combined with the young man's sharp, intelligent look.

Ghirahim eyed him up and down for several seconds, bringing about feelings of unease in the human. The young man tried his best to stand his ground before someone who, by all rights, should have been dead after being stabbed through. His blue eyes proclaimed his confusion.

"Looking for a fight, sky knight?" Ghirahim asked smoothly, pulling one hand behind his back. Horrified by the demon's eyes and voice alone, the yellow-clad human stood firm, gripping the hilt of his sword in a rigid fist. He glanced at the demon's chest. It appeared damaged, but not critically. He swallowed nervously, the keen arch of his dark eyebrows rising. His gaze moved momentarily to the sleeping human.

"What's your name, sky knight?" the demon asked, standing up taller. The human looked at him apprehensively, the fingers on his free hand moving fretfully. "Not going to talk, are we? Well, perhaps some gentle persuasion will loosen your tongue."

Bringing his concealed hand about, Ghirahim's weapon appeared before the human's bemused eyes. His jaw dropped as he looked into the demon's face once more. As the long, thin weapon was lifted, his own sword came up to meet it.

In a flash, Ghirahim lunged forward, aiming to knock the knight's weapon out of his hand. Steadfast in his battle stance, the human reached back, laced his arm into his metal shield and swung it frontward just in time to block the attack. The unconscious human reacted to the loud clash with a shake.

Straining, the knight parried the demon's rapier, consecutively circling his sword around where it was skillfully blocked. Pausing for a moment, the human looked in the direction of the other.

"Did you come for your friend?" Ghirahim inquired, his eyes aglow with eagerness. The human gave him a stern look, visibly perplexed by the situation. "Well, you're going to have to _claim_ him, then." Waving his weapon around teasingly, the demon urged his opponent forward. Prying his eyes away from what he had come so far to find, the knight took a breath, stepped to the fore and readied his weapon.

…..

The duel carried on for several strenuous minutes. Already fatigued from having run countless miles through the dense wilderness, the human forced his body to move. It completed every taxing maneuver that was commanded it, but it was running on little more than steam, and perhaps a substantial portion of fearful determination, as well.

As time wore on, the human began to suspect that he was being toyed with; screwed around with. Or, at the very least, led to erroneously believe that a serious fight was taking place. He was landing more hits than he was taking, but, his opponent was smiling…a lot. No matter how hard his sword struck his enemy, the eerie grin would _not_ leave his face.

With his nimble feet carrying him in circles, the knight's speed began to wane. Breathing heavily from exertion, he stopped several feet away from the demon, safely out of range of his weapon. Resisting the urge to lean forward onto his knees, he looked at the hero, and then back at Ghirahim. He shook his head, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow.

"Had enough yet, human?" the demon asked, his head cocked playfully. He was barely out of breath. Refusing to slouch before his enemy, the young man straightened himself and rolled his shoulders a few times. "Remlit got your tongue?" Ghirahim jeered, waving his weapon around with a chuckle. He looked straight into the human's wide, azure eyes. Still laughing, he held his arms out. "Very well, then, _Sir Pipit_." With a broad smile and a quick snap, the demon vanished. A swarm of transparent diamonds lingered where his tall frame once stood.

Staring with huge eyes, Pipit couldn't quite believe what he had just seen, or heard. Taken aback by the otherworldly sight that he had just witnessed, and by the fact that this bizarre being seemed to know who he was, he gaped at the floor, trying to make sense of it all.

Completely on edge, he sighed deeply, stretched his shoulders back once more, and looked around the room. Looking to his left, to his right, and finally behind him, he saw no one. Not a single soul, except, of course, for his friend.

With his mind a jumbled, flustered mess, Pipit tried to hone in on his friend. Paranoid that he was going to be jumped on at any given moment, he took an extremely wary step forward. Keeping his feet planted for a second, he blinked, exhaling worriedly. He waited, listening intently for even the smallest of sounds. He clenched his sword, his hand sweating against the leather. His eyes drifted from side to side as he focused.

Taking another breath, he stepped forward again. Freezing a second time, he squinched, and waited…

But, nothing. Peering at the ceiling, Pipit spoke silently to himself. He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. In an attempt to regroup after the scuffle, he labored to expel his fears. To be overcome by fear would accomplish nothing for himself, or for his friend.

He took another step, and then another as he haltingly approached Link. Still utterly unnerved, he continuously scanned his surroundings. He _knew_ that this crazy person was going to return. With larger and faster steps, he closed the gap.

Arriving at last, Pipit immediately dropped to his knees, plunked his sword and shield onto the floor next to him, and leaned into Link's face. He was completely still, but very much alive. Pipit searched the area once more before slapping a hand onto Link's back and shaking him.

"Hey!" Pipit said in a gravelly whisper. "Come on, wake up!" Getting no response, Pipit shook him harder. "Come on," he said through gritted teeth, "what the hell did this guy do to you?"

Feeling something brush his cheek, Pipit jumped several inches, grabbed his sword and swung it around. When he turned, however, he found nothing but an empty chamber. Glaring angrily at the distant wall, Pipit turned back to his friend. Placing both hands upon him, he jostled him more forcefully.

"Come on, buddy," Pipit said a bit louder, shaking his head. "You gotta-" Hearing a malicious chuckle right next to his left ear, he jerked to the right and stared, but again, nothing. His heart thumped and his chest heaved.

"Guy's messing with me…" Pipit mumbled bitterly, his hands gripping Link's tunic. Leaning his weight onto his friend, he pushed into him more intensely, hoping to see his eyes open. Link's head rolled back and forth, but he didn't budge. His face melting with discontent, Pipit lowered his head. His yellow knight's cap strew across Link's back. "Dammit!"

Lifting his face once more, he gazed at the ceiling. Unsure of the best course of action, Pipit considered his options; they were few. He quickly decided that he could either make a run for it, or stay. He knew that having to bear the burden of an unconscious man would make the odds of escaping a cunning foe exceedingly low, unfortunately. By staying, though, he would be left with two choices: fight, or beg to be spared. Who knew how the latter would pan out, given the outlandishness of this nutcase…Pipit rubbed his face with both hands.

"This is just a dream, right?" he asked no one. "Just a nightmare that I'm gonna wake up from?" His hands dropped dejectedly into his lap. "Guy should'a been dead…" Running his palm over the top of his head, he studied his friend, mentally gauging his chances of being able to run fast enough with the extra weight on his back. He shook his head again and sighed, foreseeing disaster.

Still, he was profoundly tempted to simply hoist his friend onto his shoulders and dash out of the door. In fact, he almost did, save for his nagging suspicion that a crazed maniac was waiting in the wings to jump out and impale him as soon as he was slowed down by the added hindrance of dead weight.

Becoming fed up, Pipit took a swift hold of his weapon and shield before leaping to his feet. He looked over his shoulder, projecting his voice around the room.

"Well, it's glaringly obvious that you aren't gonna let me leave," Pipit called, his clear words echoing. "So what is it that you want?" He searched all four corners of the room, but heard nothing in response. "What do you want!" he shouted, agitation slowly taking over.

At that moment, the crook of an arm swooped around and claimed his neck with such speed and ferocity that what once was in his hands fell, clamoring to the floor. Instinctively gasping, he wrapped his hands around that which assailed him and threw his head back. Bashing into the bridge of the demon's nose, Pipit claimed a snarl from him, but started to choke as his airway was constricted.

"Not much of a knight to let me just walk up to you and grab you like this," the demon stated breathily into Pipit's ear. Pipit jerked and shut his eyes for a moment. His jaw dropped at the familiar words. He could barely breathe. "Now you listen, and listen _good_." Pipit stared at the ceiling, powerless. "There's a young man. Blond hair. Green knight's tunic. Right in front of you on the floor. Do you see him?" With the size of his eyes increasing, Pipit stared at Link, shocked upon hearing the words. "_I said do you SEE HIM_!" Ghirahim screamed into his ear, fiercely squeezing his throat. Flinching from the violent jolt, Pipit bucked and shuddered. Unable to speak, he merely nodded his head, struggling against the demon's tough grip.

"Good," Ghirahim said in a pleased tone. "Not sure if you've noticed, but he's completely incapacitated right now. In fact, he's downright helpless. Would you agree?" Pipit nodded again. "Well, he's going to suffer something horrible. Unimaginable, even. And then he's going to _die_." Pipit swallowed uncomfortably as the demon emphasized the last word in his ear. "Unless, of course, you _do what I say_." Pipit's eyes jittered as he listened. He had heard these sorts of words before, but not from the demon. "So, what do you say, sky knight?"

With that, Ghirahim released his grip, twirled the red-faced human around, grasped him by the shoulders and stared him in the eye. Trying not to advertise his discomfort and terror, Pipit gawked back. Not knowing what to expect from this unpredictable man, he felt slightly petrified. Looking down, the demon grinned the same grin that Pipit had had to endure during their fight.

"Calm down," the demon said, leaning inward. "It's not like I'm going to _kiss you_." To his horror, Pipit felt the demon lower his face and press it against his neck. His skin felt cold. With his arms stiffly by his sides, Pipit looked up, open-mouthed and suspiring. Ghirahim held the human there for several moments, savoring his alarmed breathing and sinking his fingers into the yellow material. It was going to be way too much fun to take his disappointment-fueled anger out on this aidless person.

The sensual feel of the situation began stirring up old feelings for Pipit. Feeling the brush of unwanted lips across his neck, he blushed, suddenly feeling ashamed, but mostly weak. Sensing the change in his body chemistry, Ghirahim pulled back.

"Not unless you _want me to_," he said, mockingly, giving a tight-lipped chuckle. Not hesitating for a second, Pipit shook his head, his eyes settling on the demon's pale, unhuman mouth. "Come now. You spoke so well a minute ago. Do you really have no words left for me?" Ghirahim looked at Pipit's nervous face. "I like your voice, human. I want to hear more of it." The demon leaned down, bringing his face close enough to sweep against Pipit's mouth. Closing his lips, Pipit inhaled a gust of air through his nose, praying that this was all a strange dream.

"So, what do you have for me human…?" Ghirahim asked curiously, his black eyes speculative. Not knowing what he meant, Pipit shook his head again, his eyes fluttering timidly. But as his enemy's face came forward once more, he knew exactly what was about to happen. Squinting his eyes shut, he recoiled as several panicked breaths escaped him.

"No…" Pipit protested, his face turning away. Ghirahim grinned, reached his gloved hand up and took hold of the hair beneath the human's hat. As the demon made a second attempt, Pipit wriggled his head away, despite the biting pain in his scalp. He placed two hands upon Ghirahim's chest and began to push. Smiling at the human's resistance, the demon tightened his hands around his shoulders.

"Did I not tell you your friend was going to _die_ if you opposed me?" he asked.

"Just let us go," Pipit pleaded quietly, continuing to twist.

"Oh, but I'm far from finished with you." In one fell swoop, the demon caught Pipit off-guard, spun him around and pushed him onto the floor. He landed onto his chest with a heavy thud, his face crashing down next to the back of Link's head. Pipit heaved another breath after having the air snuffed from his lungs. Jabbing a knee into the middle of his back, the demon snatched Pipit's hands and shifted them behind his back.

"St…ah!" Pipit shouted as Ghirahim dropped down, placing unbelievable pressure onto the human's back with his immense bodyweight. The demon hovered over Pipit's distraught face as his frightened eyes landed onto the only sight before him: his friend.

"I'll say this one more time. Maybe I didn't make myself clear," Ghirahim said in a semi-calm voice. "If your resistance continues, or, in other words, if you don't give me your unconditional surrender, then _I _am going to give _you_ the treat of hearing every last one of your friend's anguished screams as I render his body completely _broken_." He waited for a few seconds, watching the human's worried expression.

"Then, after he's been violated and beaten beyond recognition, I'll slash his throat, ensuring an outstandingly messy experience for you as you hold him in your arms and watch his life slip painfully away. Then, I'll leave you here, alone, to wallow in your misery and guilt over your culpability for your companion's death. Is this what you want?"

"Of course not," Pipit almost whispered, writhing under the demon. His toes scraped the floor.

"Ready, then?" the demon purred.

"Fine," he sighed, thoughts of all kinds rushing through his mind as he looked at Link. He gasped as the demon flipped him over callously. He opened his eyes in surprise.

"Somehow I knew you wouldn't want to shoulder the blame for your friend's death," Ghirahim said, his tongue slipping from his mouth and curling. A look of repulsion coming over his face, Pipit rotated his head as he refused his enemy access.

"No, not here!" Pipit insisted, appalled by how close he was to Link. "Please jus-" But before he could even come close to completing his plea, the demon had jumped up, buried his hands into his tunic, lifted him with monstrous power and pitched him into the air.

After soaring for several feet and twisting in midair, Pipit collided with the floor and rolled before ramming into the wall. His back and head made rather unpleasant contact with the stone. With a groan, he loosened his tense body and dropped his head to the floor, dizzy and in pain. He blinked a few times, feeling as though karma was paying him a visit. And she was _angry_.

As Pipit lifted his upper body with shaking arms, the demon slid his feet along the floor and approached him. Pipit looked upon a white, and far fancier, version of his own leather boots. More aggrieved than mad, Pipit leaned against the wall with his legs folded beneath him.

"Is this more to your liking, sky knight?" Ghirahim asked with a smirk. Pipit craned his neck as much as he could in order to look up, but rapidly decided it was a bad idea. He rested his head against the wall and looked away.

"Why did you have to do that?" Pipit asked, trying to catch his breath.

"On your feet, human," the demon demanded, crossing his arms. Sighing tiredly, Pipit knew that if he hesitated then the demon would insist on 'helping' him. Getting himself onto his feet, he stood up and met the demon head-on. He glanced at Link's motionless body, hoping he would wake up, but grateful that he was unaware of what was taking place just a few yards away. With the demon crowding him more and more, Pipit found it arduous not to shy away.

"What's the point of this, anyway?" Pipit asked, still dazed from being thrown, and repulsed by the lack of space between them. "Why don't you either just kill us or let us go?"

"You ask too many questions, sky knight," the demon replied, grasping the golden fabric around his shoulders.

"I like questions, so get used to it," Pipit retorted, trying to avoid Ghirahim's face. The demon raised a brow at the human's tone. "Who are you? What do you want? Why can't I just take him and go? And how do you know who I am?"

"You'll find out," Ghirahim assured him, chasing the human's mouth with his own.

"I think I'd feel better having you beat the crap out of me," Pipit said, "rather than, whatever else…you plan on doing."

"How do you know what I plan to do, human?" Ghirahim asked him.

"I just do," Pipit said, disillusioned. "I have no idea who or what the hell you are, but you're just some sort of…sick perv. Is this how you get your kicks or something? Screwing around with people who are out lost in the woods?"

"Just shut up, sky knight," Ghirahim said, pressing his mouth against the human's.

"Wait!" Pipit cried, his mouth nearly covered. "If you have like…magical abilities, can you just…" Pipit stumbled over his words for a moment. "…Can't you just…" He looked away, shrugging. "…Make yourself look like a _woman_, or something, 'cause…it would make this a lot less horrific for me." The demon's face changed as he stifled a laugh. His chin dropped as he grinned at the human's attempt to palliate his dilemma.

"No, human," Ghirahim said with a chuckle.

"Is this what you did to _him_?" Pipit asked, pointing. "I mean, why is he so out of it? Is that what's gonna happen to me?"

"His state is his own doing," Ghirahim said.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Pipit asked, shaking his head confusedly. The demon looked at him sternly.

"It means it _wasn't my fault_, human," he explained. Pipit gave an incredulous look.

"I don't believe you," he said. "I think you're full of _crap_." The demon closed his hands tighter.

"Am I?" Ghirahim asked, eliciting a distrustful look from the human. "Well, I believe it's about time to show you I'm _not_." Dipping his head quickly before Pipit could protest any further, the demon overtook his mouth. Flailing about in surprise, Pipit sought to free himself, but he couldn't. With the odd feeling of the warm, reptilian appendage filling his mouth, he panted and gagged, grabbing hold of the demon's red swathe.

Reeling at first, Pipit's movements slowed as he felt something being withdrawn from his mind. The force behind the extraction, while mostly strange, felt somewhat pleasing to his senses. He locked eyes with the demon, suddenly troubled.

Breaking away from the human, Ghirahim's head rocked back a bit before he gave him another sly grin. A bit breathless, Pipit sunk back.

"What are you?" he asked, licking his lips uneasily.

"The question is, what are _you_?" the demon asked, his eyes illuminated. "A terrible friend?" Pipit stared back.

"What?" he asked bleakly.

"How long have you been lusting after her, sky knight?" Ghirahim asked, trying to contain his excitement. He now had the fuel that he was looking for. The fire of this human's shame would soon be blazing beautifully. Pipit simply shook his head again, not knowing what the demon was referring to.

"How would you know-"

"It started about three weeks ago, at a certain _party_," the demon said slowly, watching the human's eyes broaden. "You comforted her in her distress when you learned that she had been deserted. Consoled her in her deep disappointment on account of the hero, over there." All four eyes drifted to Link for a moment. "A few kind words. A hug. The sweet smell of her golden hair as she presses herself against you. Is that all that it takes for you to abandon your loyalties to your best friend?" Pipit's movements and questions abruptly ceased as the demon's insinuations sank in.

"You went home with that tall, gorgeous blonde knight that evening, but…" Ghirahim laughed softly as he dug his fingers into Pipit's shoulders. "…She's not who you were _with_, that night, was she?" Pipit gaped up at the demon, totally astonished.

"How do…" he started to say. He was unsure of what to offer as a rebuttal.

"Did she not belong to your friend?" the demon asked, drawing information as if from a well.

"No…" Pipit said, swallowing awkwardly. "He has M-"

"But you didn't _know_ that at the time, did you?" Ghirahim reminded him, turning his head and urging him not to lie. He smiled, relishing the human's discomfiture. Pipit looked down, absolutely confused and a bit embarrassed. "She, in essence, was almost betrothed to your best friend, and had been for years."

"How is this any of your business anyway?" he asked, fidgeting his fingers. Ghirahim's tongue swept over his lips.

"Everything is my business, sky knight," he affirmed.

"This is ridiculous," Pipit mumbled heatedly.

"Oh, but we have more to discuss beyond your failings as a friend." Pipit's eyes came up, showing his dread.

"How do you know anything about me…?" he asked softly.

"You've got some interesting fears, human," the demon noted, sounding far more engrossed than Pipit was comfortable with. "There is one small issue I simply cannot resist bringing up. Hopefully you can forgive me, but, I find it simply _fascinating_." Bending so far down that the pair's foreheads nearly touched, he captured Pipit's eyes with his own.

"You _lied_, sky knight," Ghirahim taunted, wringing one hand and enjoying the delicious sight of the mental torture seeping its way into the human's soul. "More specifically, you lied to _him_." Studying his feet, Pipit gave a heavy sigh.

"About _what_?" he asked, severe indignation starting to permeate his tone.

"You know what I'm alluding to, human, must I say it?" Upon receiving no response, the demon giggled to himself. "I like your stubbornness. It will make your submission all the more enjoyable for me, sky knight." Pipit's eyes drifted from one side to the other as he took another large breath. "And seeing as though you prefer to show yourself ignorant of what I am talking about, then perhaps I do need to explain it. Map it all out for you. Because, sometimes it's utterly necessary and feels _so good_ to get that painful truth out into the open." Pipit lifted his head, giving the demon a rigorously annoyed look.

"Are you like the world's most mislaid, misapplied shrink or something?" Pipit accused, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. "If so, then _somebody_ sure botched up putting your loony ass in charge of _anything_." Ever so slightly floored by the feistiness of his comment, the demon nodded.

"I would scourge you for your outright disrespect, _human_," Ghirahim said authoritatively, "but, at the moment, I have other ways of making you pay." Reaching for Pipit, the demon gripped his tunic, picked him up, slammed him into the wall and nearly shoved their faces together.

"I have a feeling that you would break easier than the other sky child. It's the fear. The fear conjured up in your head tears down the very defenses which serve to protect you." Pipit held onto the demon as he was crushed against the wall. "You told your friend about a certain _someone_ in your past who had taken advantage of you, stole your innocence, betrayed your trust, _more than once_, did you not?" Pipit shook his head and closed his eyes, not wanting to hear anymore. "Most of what you admitted to was true. But there was one minute detail that you chose to omit from your story. Now, what could that _tiny_ bit of information be?"

The onslaught of disturbing accusations was beginning to take its toll on Pipit. He had not come here for this. He had been drawn here, led by a vision within a dream to aid his friend, not to be abused by a sadist.

"You went back to him. For an entire _year_. Not because you were forced to, but because you wanted to, sky knight," Ghirahim said straight into Pipit's face. With the distress showing clearly in his eyes, he fought against the demon's restraining hands, his face burning from a mixture of humiliation and rage.

"Isn't it _nice_ to address these little problems of ours?" Ghirahim asked with a sneer, rubbing a hand along Pipit's neck, delighting in the stream of negative emotion that was spilling from him. His touch only added to Pipit's exasperation.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a movement. He turned his head to see Link's hand moving across the floor. His eyes were still shut, but he seemed to be waking up. Pipit looked at his sword and shield which lay next to his friend, hoping with all of his strength that he would take notice of them, and help him, somehow…

"You aren't affected very much by fear," the demon continued. "But, this you do fear: that you will never stop craving that which is dark, and violent. That the love of a woman will never compare to th-"

"That's enough!" Pipit yelled. "It's not true! That's not how-"

"What are you willing to do to save your friend, my capture-bonded sky knight?" Ghirahim interjected. Pipit stared with his mouth agape. "_I said_, what are you willing to do to save your friend?" He dropped the human roughly onto his feet. "Anything?" At a loss for words, Pipit just blinked. "Let's not break the time-honored tradition of you sacrificing your dignity for him, now."

Jerking sideways, Pipit peeked at his friend. He was amazed to see his eyes fluttering open. Seeing Pipit's face, Ghirahim turned to look, as well.

"I believe our little hero _lives_," the demon said sardonically. "Time to make your choice. _You_, or _him_."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Pipit said, his voice almost breaking. "Just let us go…Let me take him, and…" He breathed in unevenly. "I'll come back," he said quickly.

Ghirahim stared into the human's eyes, deliberating in his head. Pipit's entire body tensed as he observed the demon's small, malevolent grin turn into a full-blown smile. To the demon, his offer was…refreshing, somehow.

"You will, will you?" Ghirahim asked, rubbing the yellow wool between his fingers. Pipit looked away.

"Yes, I will," he forced himself to say. The demon nodded his head, lifted his right hand before the human and waited, anticipation filling his eyes. Very reluctantly, Pipit acquiesced.

"_Knight's honor_?" Ghirahim sang gleefully. Not knowing what in the world he was agreeing to, Pipit dropped his head and brought his hand up. Taking his hand, Ghirahim shook it so fervently that Pipit had to steady his feet against the energy of it.

"Pipit…" a weak voice said. They both looked at Link, who was finally conscious, but struggling to move. Pipit prayed to the Goddess that he hadn't heard any part of their recent discussion.

"Pipit…what're you…doing here?" Link asked in a raspy voice. Pipit watched his friend try to coordinate himself; it was a valiant effort, but he didn't make it very far. Appearing to be in vast amounts of pain, his face ended up on the floor again. Grateful that his friend was in one piece, but mortified by his own plight, Pipit turned toward the demon.

"Um…trying to help you, but obviously doing a poor job of it," Pipit said. Noticing the manner in which the demon was holding his friend, Link reached out, his fingernails scratching the floor.

"Let him go," Link called out, his blue eyes closing against the pain. As Ghirahim chuckled at the hero's feeble state, Link pressed his palms to the floor, summoned as much vigor as he could find, and walked his hands back, lifting his lower body upward. Placing one hand over his chest, his face twisted in anguish, making Pipit wonder what was wrong with him.

"You know," the demon began, "I probably won't be seeing another human again for a while." He gave Pipit such a cruel look that he thought that the demon was going to mention their agreement. "I very much looked forward to having some sort of _fun_ today. And, I must admit, I've been rewarded with nothing memory book-worthy, at all." His vindictive gaze switched back and forth between the two humans.

"You two aren't leaving this room until I've had my fill; something that makes up for the loss which I suffered earlier." His pitch-black eyes slowly returned to Pipit. "What do you say, sky knight?" Exchanging concerned looks with his friend, a knot began to form in his stomach. Link was still in a fog, but Pipit knew that he was listening.

"I thought you said that we were free to go if I agreed to come back," Pipit whispered out of the corner of his mouth. Ghirahim looked down at him and grinned.

"_You_ agreed to come back. _I_ did not agree to anything, sky knight."

"What?" Pipit cried, jumping back. "You f-" But the demon had slapped a hand over Pipit's mouth, causing him to thrash about. Unable to do anything but witness the disturbing scene, Link held out his hand and shook his head in dismay.

"You humans are a joke, do you realize that?" Ghirahim laughed. "You come here, sent on a _Goddess ordained_ mission," he emphasized, "and you either pass out cold on your way here, or you walk right into a trap on your own accord. It is quite _amusing_, actually." His eyes floated from one knight to the other. "There seems to be an alarming trend in your pitiful little lives, where _females _all too easily dupe and deceive you. They've got you doing and believing things that, in all fairness, can't be considered anything other than _inane_."

Pipit managed to pry the demon's hand away. He shot a glance to Link. He wondered how well he could run at this point. He seemed to be regaining his strength…

"You haven't had much luck…with women yourself, lately," Link quipped. The demon sighed.

"Mmm. Well, be that as it may," Ghirahim said, "you've both been fooled. Quite efficiently."

"What?" Pipit asked the demon.

"The _girl_," the demon answered. Pipit looked at Link, who looked at Ghirahim.

"What girl?" Pipit committed himself to pulling his tunic free from the demon's grip.

"Your little twilight princess," Ghirahim said, his words heavy with sarcasm. "The one who took it upon herself to lead our hero astray, literally _and_ figuratively." He held his arm out, admiring Link's solemn face. Pipit gawked at both of them.

"Say _what_?" he asked.

"Haven't you felt it, sky knight?" Ghirahim asked. "Or have you too had your common sense swiped cleanly from you by her _radiant beauty_?" Pipit shook his head in disbelief as he viewed Link's crestfallen expression. He took a moment to stare off into space.

"What the hell?" Pipit asked. His pondering was quickly interrupted by the demon.

"_Believe it_," Ghirahim snarled in his face as he ran a finger down the side of Pipit's cheek. Link lifted a hand to his face in consternation. This couldn't possibly be happening. Rolling onto his knees, he groaned from the pain as it shot through him like fire. With his hand over his heart, he gasped shrilly.

Then, he heard an odd sound. He looked around, trying to locate the source. The others had noticed it, as well.

It crossed Link's senses once more, this time more loudly. He completely perked up as his ears lifted and his eyes opened. The pain in his body, however, still left him out of commission. But the sound roused his mind. It almost sounded like…

A laugh. A hearty one, flowing through the chamber and springing off of the walls. Puzzled but thrilled, Link looked at Pipit who was still being mercilessly manhandled by the demon. They all, however, didn't know what was going on.

Link glimpsed at the doorway which led to the chasm outside of the room. He knew that she was there. For a moment, he forgot about the throbbing, and about every baleful thing that had been said about her. Trying to crawl forward, he almost fell.

_Midna…_he thought. He suddenly felt dizzy. He sat back again, mystified.

"You really need to get your facts straight, Mr. Demon Lord," her elegant voice chimed from the shadows.


	13. Forever Connected

Chapter 13

Forever Connected

Link was so full of questions that he almost couldn't think straight. He had no idea how he had ended up where he was. By some miracle, Pipit had found him, somehow navigating the maze-like forest. And now, he had heard Midna's enchanting voice, something that had been a fixture in his mind during his quest in the woods. His efforts to think about no one except for his lost friend had fallen victim to his own growing desires. He grimaced at his selfishness…

Link was in great pain and felt drained of all energy, and on top of that, he was a bit queasy. However, upon searching his most pain-stricken areas, he found no indication that he should be feeling any discomfort. He had no bruises, no lacerations and no gashes in the places which were ablaze with a rather peculiar ache: his hand, his chest and his leg. Not even a single scrape lingered as evidence. His body was in the exact condition that it had been before he…

_Wait a minute_…Link thought, staring at the floor. His hand came cautiously up to his chest once more. With his fingertips, he rubbed the area next to his heart. It was hot, and seemed to be throbbing from within. He draped an arm over his shoulder and felt his upper back. His memory felt as hazy as his eyes. But, something, whatever it was, was starting to come back to him.

The amber, sunless sky, the ferocious creatures, the grandiose buildings, the demons, that woman, the demon lord…

Link looked at Ghirahim. Had he indeed captured him, taken him into another realm and tried over and over again to rip him from his dignity…? As the misty elements of a dream slowly trickle into one's mind after waking, so Link began to remember. He peered down at his hands, covered by dark gauntlets. Running a finger underneath the leather on his right palm, he exhaled heavily. He flipped his hands over, recalling how the bokoblins had stolen his gloves, as well as every last scrap of armor that he had had in his possession. He felt the bags which hung from his belt, remembering the exact second that they had been plundered. He wrapped his hands around his neck; he could have sworn that a fetter had once lain there.

Still kneading his hurting chest, Link's face soured. He placed a hand over his mouth as he counted the number of times that the demon had violated him; assuming that it had not been a nightmare, anyway. Link shook his head. It didn't make any sense. He recalled the various sensations that had been brought about by the demon's touch. He remembered the woman…Lilith, he believed her name was…How could a mere dream have left him with such a vivid picture of her…?

He had experienced such a horrific ordeal. He had fought, and he had lost…horribly. Not just lost, but…

No. It couldn't be. If it had really happened, then he wouldn't have been here to wonder about it. He wouldn't have been here to wonder about _anything_, for that matter.

In the forest he had been sick, feverish, and at one point, fairly delusional, seeing and hearing some rather disturbing sights and sounds within the temple. That much he knew for sure. But, what he could recall from his search through the temple was tremendously obscure, blending directly into the memory of waking up bound and alone.

_My gods…I hope it was just a dream…_

Massaging his forehead, Link sighed. He no longer knew what was fact or fiction; true remembrance, or figments of his imagination. As his palm brushed his cheek, he flinched. It stung terribly.

"I've heard some exceptionally inaccurate things said about me before," a silken female voice rang with a hint of derision. It sliced flawlessly through Link's brooding. "But _that_, I must say, is downright _laughable_."

The three baffled males looked about the chamber. It was impossible to pinpoint where the voice was coming from, for the acoustics within the room made it sound as though Midna could have been standing anywhere. Knowing her, she certainly could have been. Link looked up, nearly expecting her to drop from the ceiling. He started smiling.

With the most impeccable of timing, Link's blithe face slowly fell to the doorway, far across the room from where he sat. First, he saw a foot, outfitted in a brown boot much like Pipit's. Stretching from the leather footwear was a long, slender leg, wrapped tautly in black material. Link's eyes followed it up to the edge of a very familiar black tunic, decorated along the bottom with swirling shapes in red, white and turquoise. True to Midna's style, the entire outfit hugged her form perfectly. And what a fabulous form it was, too…In fact, the corresponding belt fastened around her waist almost called out to him, inviting him to wrap his arms around her.

Link sighed. He loved everything about her ensemble, including the way that the long, sable sleeves trimmed her wrists with the same colorful, dynamic design. Even the collar of her black shirt was edged to match. He had never seen such a well-dressed knight in his entire life. She looked exactly as she had when he had last seen her in Skyloft.

Especially her lush red hair, with the way that it streamed down along her face and draped over her shoulders. Those exotic auburn eyes, that adorable nose, those amazing lips. Link practically forgot where he was. Standing in the doorway for a moment, she exchanged a purposeful glance with him.

With a subtle toss of her head, her hair pendulated gracefully from her face. Stepping into the chamber, she took one confident step after another, easily riveting the interest of everyone around her. Taking a quick break from his gaping, Pipit shifted his gaze to Link, who had yet to remove his awe-struck eyes from her. With one hand bearing down on Ghirahim's clutching fist, Pipit waved the other into the air, drawing his friend's attention.

Dragging his eyes away, Link looked at Pipit just as he emotively mouthed, 'what's she doing here?' Link shrugged, not knowing any more than him. Pipit's jaw dangled as he shook his head, looking as though he was ready to shout a sarcastic, 'why does this not surprise me?'

With perfect posture and arms sophisticatedly by her sides, Midna marched herself straight to Ghirahim. The demon's raven eyes didn't leave her for a second as she approached the wall where he and Pipit stood. As she closed in, the fabric on Pipit's chest began to slip from the demon's fingers. Taking notice, Pipit took a slow, cautious step back. Studying the demon's face, he was stunned by how fixated he had become on Midna. Guardedly backing away, Pipit looked at her. Her steady pace brought her straight to the demon lord. Speeding up to a backward jog, Pipit slid up to Link, bent down and scooped him up into a standing position. Wobbling in his friend's arm for a moment, Link held back a pained groan.

Taking on a rigid stance, Ghirahim turned around to face Midna as she planted her feet in front of him. Being Link's height, she was much smaller than the demon. However, 'intimidated' was one look that certainly was not going to win in the battle to claim her expression.

Everyone stood in complete silence for several seconds. The two friends watched from the sidelines as Midna glared through tapered eyes at the wareful demon.

"Radiant beauty?" she asked Ghirahim, her fingers gently drumming against her thighs. "_Maybe_." The demon's stare moved with her as she turned, keeping her eyes glued to him. She took a step. After depositing both feet firmly onto the floor once more, she pivoted and intensified her glower. She leaned inward. "But, the _only_ place that I lead anybody…" The demon's face began to drop a bit. "…Literally, _or_ figuratively…" she continued, her eyes beginning to boil. She ran her tongue over her teeth. "…Is where they _want_ to go."

The tension between Midna and Ghirahim was so thick that it could almost be seen. Watching the two play off of one another was an incredible sight to behold. Midna was fearless before him, commanding the respect of the most prominent leader in the demon realm.

Link's head was spinning. It must have been one hell of a dream to induce within him such a large amount of fear. The way that he felt toward this demon, just…defied logic. He felt as though he knew him well; very well, actually. A chill tried to crawl up his spine.

And the way that Midna had simply waltzed in here and taken the floor…

Nervous and enthralled, Pipit latched himself to Link without even noticing it. Link noticed, however, but had such splitting pain in his chest and hand that he didn't bother to shove his friend away.

"What're they doing?" Pipit asked quietly. Link shook his head and shrugged.

"I have no idea what's going on in any way, shape or form right now, Pipit," Link said.

"You impertinent, dishonorable, contemptible _woman_," Ghirahim growled and hissed at the same time. Instantaneously angered, Link virtually jumped off of the floor as he dashed for the demon, but was foiled by Pipit's strong arms. Just as he was about to toss Pipit's hands away, he froze. The two of them stared as something unexpected took place.

As Ghirahim's hand reached for her, Midna leaped back, scowled at the demon and brought her hands before her chest. With her right palm hovering above her left, her face intensified. The demon immediately came to a stop, the red material around his shoulders swinging outward. He gawked at her, his expression converting into something that Link had never seen. His mouth dropped as he watched.

After stepping to a safe distance, Midna lowered her head. Her eyes, severe but soft, closed as she concentrated, focusing exclusively on her hands. Everyone gawped, especially the spellbound demon.

With each passing second, the space between Midna's hands changed. A swirling distortion appeared, making everyone's eyes widen even more. The shifting air grew dark, taking on a smoky appearance before manifesting into a turbulent, black cloud of energy. Containing the whirling mass in her grasp, she stepped back, her head still down.

Completely captivated, Link held his breath. He wanted to run to her. He had no idea what she was doing, or how she was doing it. It was amazing, absorbing and frightening all at once. He almost called out to her.

The blackness before her grew, spinning like a cloud about to birth a vortex. A soft wind started to blow, sweeping her scarlet tendrils behind her. Feeling the bluster on his skin, Ghirahim pulled back. His face slowly transformed from amazed to alarmed.

Raising her head, Midna's eyes clashed with the demon's again. As she brought her arms up toward him, the gust of energy from within her hands became audible. Everything around her began to move, waving about with each blast of air.

"Midna!" Link called, holding his hand out to her. As Ghirahim turned to him, the energy burst from Midna's hands, causing the room to quake. Still maintaining control, she opened her palms to the demon, releasing what had stewed within them. Ghirahim brought his hand up to counteract what Midna had called forth, but it was too late.

With a push of her hands, the churning mass burst outward, shooting straight toward the demon with such speed that the floor and walls seemed to rock from the sheer force of it. Midna slid back, Link and Pipit steadied themselves, and the demon tried to twist away. A blinding screen of light overtook Link's eyes. Just as he shied away, an explosive shattering sound shot through the chamber, ringing shrilly in his ears. Shielding his head from the blast, Link slowly straightened up and looked at those in front of him, wonder-stricken.

Midna hadn't been in the room for even a minute, and already, something incredible had happened. She stood tall and unscathed, but the demon was against the wall, bent over at the waist. Staring open-mouthed at the floor with a look of total horror on his face, he gripped his right side with both hands. His vitreous red diamond, the source of most of his power, had been violently fragmented. His glazed eyes looked solemnly at the splintered remains of what was his only connection to his Master. Midna glared coldly down at him.

"Maybe that'll teach you not to speak about things you don't understand," she said, her voice ruthless and cruel. A grim smile crossed her face as she continued. "Why don't you think about that for a while as you lay there in shame, Mr. Demon Lord?" She laughed again, an entrancing sound filled with malicious amusement.

After observing the demon for a moment, Midna turned her blank face away. Gazing across the room, she looked at Link and Pipit, who had all but huddled together in the chaos. Turning her back on the somber demon, she made the short trek to where her fellow knights stood. Her mouth came up in a pert smile as she viewed their matching, flabbergasted expressions. Their huge blue eyes greeted her as she swaggered up to them.

"Well don't you guys look cute," Midna teased as she looked them over. The two side-stepped away from each other. "He's no longer a threat. At least not right now," she said, looking at both of them as she spoke. Noticing that his jaw was just about unhinged, Link shut his mouth before responding.

"Umm…Midna…" he began, "what was _that_?" Standing tautly, he glanced at Ghirahim who seemed to be mourning the loss of something precious. Midna's eyes bounced from one disbelieving young man to the other.

"I have a few things to explain. Later," Midna said bluntly, giving each of them a stern look.

"Yeah…I'll say you do," Link replied, countering her unyielding gaze with skepticism. Midna glanced at Pipit, who had begun to appear more impatient than anything else.

"Okay, weirdness about what just happened aside," Pipit said, pointing in the demon's direction. "I'd say let's off that crackpot, but I just did. And he's _still here_."

"What do you mean you just offed him?" Link asked, wary about talking too loud.

"Dude, my sword went through his freakin' _chest_. Like, completely through. It didn't even faze the guy."

"Yeah, I've noticed that little problem," Link said. Pipit looked at his friend concernedly. Link's face loosened.

"A subpar weapon is not going to be enough against an enemy such as this," Midna stated. Link eyed her incredulously.

"The Goddess Sword isn't subpar, Midna." She blinked slowly.

"Well, you know what I mean," she said.

"No, I don't," Link insisted. She sighed lightly, almost grinning.

"Okay, well, you left Skyloft so quickly after receiving the sword that I didn't get the chance to view it very much, but from what I _did_ see, it was a splendid weapon. However, it would be nominal if pitted against someone like him."

"How do you know that?" Pipit asked, whispering. Midna shrugged nonchalantly and tipped her head to the side.

"I just sensed it," she told him. Pipit and Link exchanged suspicious looks. Midna watched them, amused.

"Well, you guys know me," Pipit said, shifting his antsy feet. "Patience is something I have issues with _normally_, not to mention when Doctor Evil is in the room." He glared accusingly at Link. "Man, you leave Skyloft for _five_ days, and you manage to dig up some Leviathan?" Link's chin dropped in surprise.

"I didn't dig him up. He dug himself up!" Link whispered brusquely. Pipit shrugged, at a loss. Midna stepped between them.

"Hey, not the time," she reprimanded, giving them each an annoyed look. "You can argue all you want later. Let's just go."

"Normally," Pipit said, "I'd say, 'Link, control your woman. She's gettin' mouthy'." Midna rolled her eyes and suppressed a wry smile. "But right now, after she just flippin' owned this guy who almost…" Pipit stared her in the eye. "I'm listening to her. Let's _go_!" Wrapping his arms around both of them, Pipit began pushing them toward the exit, their gateway to the outside.

"You're forgetting something," Midna informed him.

"What?" Pipit asked.

"The Knight Commander's sword and shield," Midna said. "The ones that he reluctantly rendered to you after you begged and pleaded with him."

"I didn't beg him!" Pipit exclaimed, shaking his head. "Look, crackpot can keep it as a parting gift. I don't even wanna walk back over there to get them. I'd rather face Eagus's wrath."

"Suit yourself," Midna said, looking ahead as they walked.

"Wait," Link said, interrupting Pipit's pushiness. He turned to Midna. "You said he's no longer a threat, right? What does that mean exactly?"

"It means whatever magical abilities he possesses have been revoked. For how long, I'm not sure," she said, her face so close to Link's that it made his heart flutter. "He's still dangerous, though. I wouldn't hang around here any longer." Link pursed his lips and looked behind him.

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "Pipit, I'm gonna go get your stuff. I have a pretty strong feeling that he isn't gonna hurt me. Even if he's willing to kill you guys." Pipit looked at him as if he was crazy.

"What? You have a _feeling_ he's not gonna hurt you? You're not going back over there. I didn't just bust my butt running through this god-forsaken forest for _two days straight_ for you to just-" Abruptly freeing himself from his friend's grip, Link stepped away.

"I'm going back over there," he said determinedly. "You guys just go outside. I'll follow in a minute."

"Hell no," Pipit said, his temper beginning to flare. Link sighed heavily.

"Just _go_," he told them through gritted teeth. They watched him walk stubbornly away. Pipit stood with his hands on his hips, completely exasperated.

"Okay, I think it's time to say, 'Midna, control your man. He's going kamikaze'."

"Only if he was bent on self-sacrifice to finish him off," Midna said in his defense.

"Well the sword and shield aren't worth it," Pipit told her, balling his fists as he battled against pursuing his friend.

"Maybe there's more to it than the sword and shield," Midna suggested. Pipit's eyes turned away.

"Huh?" he asked. Taking a deep breath, Midna crossed her arms and leaned toward Pipit.

"Look, I'm not worried about him. He can handle himself." Pipit observed Link on the opposite side of the chamber as he approached the demon.

"I dunno about that…" he replied dismally. Midna gestured toward the open door.

"Come on, let's just wait by the door," she said, reaching out and pulling him by the crook of his arm.

"Fine, but I'm not going outside," Pipit said resolutely.

With the guardedness of one nearing an ornery animal, Link took small, slow steps. Pacing past the area where he had lain for so long, he bypassed the Knight Commander's belongings, confirming Midna's suspicions. Hearing his footsteps, the demon was incited from his cogitation. With his hands still placed atop his right side, he finally pulled his dark eyes from the floor. Link stepped directly in front of him, his gaze intersecting with Ghirahim's.

"Mm, you've returned, sky child," Ghirahim said, his voice subdued. Link was startled by its uncharacteristic tone. Link narrowed his eyes and looked toward where the demon's diamond had once been before making eye-contact again.

"How?" Link asked, his curiosity enkindled. His irises, glowing slate in the muted light, burned with a lust for knowledge. With his back to the wall, a grin glimmered on the demon's lips for a moment.

"Ah. Your untrammeled wonder has gotten the better of you, I see," Ghirahim said, covering his torso. "And which of the many questions do you seek answers for?" Link's eyes tapered inquisitively.

"Did this really happen?" Link asked, elevating his hands by his sides. The demon looked the human up and down as he meditated momentarily.

"Did you truly die? Is that your question?" Link's face changed as he swallowed. He nodded. "Yes, sky child. You did, in fact." Despite having expected this answer, Link's heart began palpitating. But, before he could open his mouth to speak, the demon continued. "There exist special zones throughout the demon realm, sky child; unique areas in which a man's soul can be rived from his body in the most brutal of ways. Yet, he will live." Link felt his body go numb.

"But…how?" Link asked. "Why? Where-"

"Mm. Too many questions, sky child," Ghirahim said, running his free hand across his forehead. Link was floored by the demon's strange demeanor. "As they say, human, a capacity and taste for reading gives access to whatever has already been determined. Go to the _library_." Link's eyes broadened. "I have far too much to be concerned about at this moment." Link looked at his feet, perturbed. He had to speak…

"You made a lot of haughty claims earlier," Link stated, trying to mask the discomfort in his leaden body. "You said…" He paused. "…My pride wouldn't be going with me…That I'd be begging for my life…That I'd be so ashamed of myself that I'd…" Link's voice faded to a whisper. He immediately regretted verbalizing his thoughts.

"I think that the answer to your 'question' just came from your own mouth," Ghirahim said authoritatively. Link looked away. "It's fair to say that while I may _exaggerate_ at times, I speak the truth, sky child." Even in his weakened state, the demon still had enough moxie to glean deference from the human. "As you will discover."

Slithering away from the wall, Ghirahim stepped up to Link. The human stiffened, leaning back on his right leg to escape. He grimaced at the sudden pain. He shut his eyes. The demon bent down.

"Do you remember the dream that came to you six days ago, sky child?" Ghirahim asked, lifting a hand to caress his jaw line. Link exhaled, feeling a cooling sensation in his enflamed areas. The demon brought his mouth to his ear. Link's eyes opened restlessly. "Sky child, it's alright if this is too much for you. Let it go. Here, let me help. Running isn't an option. Embrace it…You're mine…" With a surprised breath, Link gaped at the wall behind the demon. As Ghirahim placed his strong hands upon the human's shoulders, his head retreated.

"Yes," the demon said, fusing their eyes together. Link felt himself slipping. "It's our thread of fate, sky child. And we are forever connected." Blinking restively, Link looked down and shook his head. Claiming his chin with a single finger, the demon lifted the human's face.

"You look like you're in terrible amounts of pain, sky child." Ghirahim wagged his head disapprovingly. "How about I leave _you_ with a parting gift?" With his hands hanging down, Link felt his mouth drawn to the demon's. He shuddered as warmth overcame him. A light brush crossed his lips. His eyelids closed.

"Unless, of course, your girlfriend doesn't want me to," the demon said, an evil smile pulling at his mouth as he peered downward. Gasping and jerking away, Link's head shot toward the door. Panting from the shock, he searched the area, but found no one. In spite of his relief, his heart pumped vigorously. The only sight that he saw was an open doorway, generously showered by the pastel rays of dawn's light. It was a new day.

Looking back at the demon, Link's wide eyes conveyed every word that was on his heart. He was appalled by the way that he had reacted to the demon. This monster had just admitted to every depraved deed that Link was sure would haunt him indefinitely. Furious, outraged and sick with anger were three accurate ways to describe how he felt about himself at the moment. He felt even more nauseous now…

Forsaking his painful leg, Link backed away. He crossed swiftly to the middle of the room. Still watching the demon, he snapped up each of the two metal items. He surmised that these objects were just as misplaced in this dangerous land as he and his friends were. Zelda's face flashed through his mind…

Having had more than enough of this place, Link tightened his grip on the sword and shield, turned himself around and walked briskly to the door, wincing all the way.

"Do me a favor, sky child," Ghirahim called, grinning and licking his lips when he saw Link's feet slow, "next time you're _with her_, think of me. It's good practice for later." Dragging his feet, Link nearly tripped. Feeling his face start to turn as red as a cherry, he huffed, fed up with the demon's ability to manipulate and humiliate him. No one else had ever held such power over him. He felt himself wanting to erupt, but he pushed himself onward. He took a deep breath, not wanting to appear flustered to his companions.

As he stepped through the doorway, Link felt the demons eyes on him, studying his silhouette. He glanced to the side, pushing Ghirahim's image out of his mind. A cool breeze floated by his face. He inhaled through his nose, smelling the water and trees. He felt as though an age had passed since he last set foot outdoors. What he had seen of the demon realm had been a far cry from flourishing and fertile. The sun wasn't up yet, but the sparkling Skyview Spring was bright and lively. It looked magnificent.

"Where's your sword?" Pipit asked out of nowhere. Jumping, Link looked to the left to see him and Midna standing along the edge of the stone platform. She was peeking curiously over the edge, watching the tiny tadpoles swimming about in the pool. Link looked into the distance, reached behind his back and felt for his sword. He furrowed his brow in thought. Slowly, his eyes sank. His scabbard was empty, and he remembered why.

"How does a knight lose his sword?" Pipit asked, stepping beside him. Link continued daydreaming, his mouth slightly agape. Scoffing, Pipit firmly grasped Link by the shoulders and turned him, joining their eyes together. Looking down at his friend with big blue eyes, he asked,

"Man, what _happened_ to you, anyway?" Link gave Pipit a desolate look for a few seconds. He looked down at his hands, unsure of what to say, or _how_ to say it…

….

The forest was quiet that morning. It stood in sharp contrast to the inner turmoil experienced by one who faced the belligerence and ire of a merciless Master. His feet crushed innumerable blades of grass as he marched. He could have possibly transported to his destination if enough magic had remained within him after the shattering of his precious jewel. He didn't bother to try, however. He consigned to taking the long way. His Master would still be there, waiting. Surely his rage had already reached its boiling point.

The sealed grounds were dark. Light had yet to touch this dark corner of the land. The only illuminated marker on the landscape was the Sealed Temple, the sacred place overlooking the gorge which housed the imprisoned form of his Master. With the ability to communicate through his red diamond, the demon very rarely had to come here. But, today was a special occasion…

Not special in a positive way, however. The demon knew how furious the splintering of the diamond would make his Master. He had already been bitterly disappointed by his recent failings.

Descending along the corkscrewing trail that led to the pit, the demon held his hands behind his back. He shut his eyes as he walked, feeling his Master's presence. He was growing more powerful by the day.

It was a long journey down; it felt like it, at least. With each step bringing him closer, the demon twirled his fingers. He already knew what was going to happen.

As his foot touched down upon the bottom of the ravine, he felt a tremor. For a time, it was silent. His eyes roved about the grounds, searching for the one whom he knew was pining for him. In a way, the demon pined for his Master, as well. He shuddered, his whole body trembling in anticipation.

"Come here, sword," a menacing voice called. The demon's mouth dropped as he breathed in. He could always tell at what depth his Master's anger was based on what he chose to call him. Considering today's choice, he was infuriated.

Then, an immense, gargantuan form, far taller than the demon, appeared before him. Shadow gripped his face. Every trace of light seemed to flee. Even the darkness seemed to fear him. The demon stood in excited, and terrified, trepidation.

"Explain to me how this has happened," his Master's voice boomed. The demon paused to think, but was not given the opportunity to speak. "You have already failed to bring the human to us. Your performance has left me…unsatisfied."

"But, the human has already shown signs of-" the demon started to say, but a colossal hand had arisen, squeezing him so tightly around the neck that it left him gasping. Writhing, he stared into his Master's smoldering eyes, embroiled with an unfathomable rage. The massive being lowered his head, drilling straight into the demon's composure.

"You will pay for your failure," he growled quietly as the demon rocked back and forth with the rhythm of his Master's breathing. He shut his eyes, and waited. He heard the familiar sound of a knife being drawn. His hands came up. He buried them into whatever material he could find on his Master's upper body.

The pain…His Master knew that he enjoyed it up to a certain point. If channeled properly, the demon could actually convert his pain to pleasure, and vice versa, if necessary. His Master was well aware of this, however, and was highly adept at circumventing the demon's abilities, pushing him beyond the limit.

While the enormous beast appeared, on some occasions, to get some form of gratification from toying with the demon, he normally wanted nothing more than to administer raw punishment to him. Unable to read his Master without his diamond, the demon squirmed in his hands, afraid and enthralled.

He felt the blade against his neck. He gasped. Such a stupid mistake he had made earlier; such a short-sighted, idiotic mistake. He couldn't quite believe that it had taken place...

He saw her face...

Never again...Never.

The demon knew that, no matter what, this was going to end in immeasurable torment…


	14. Far to Go

Chapter 14

Far to Go

Tilting his head, Pipit gaured at Link's vacant expression. Midna alternated her gaze between the two young men, studying them both. After asking the question more than once, Pipit began to think that his friend in green was never going to talk. He waited silently, wondering what was causing Link's sudden absentmindedness.

The Skyview Spring, a quiet, serene rift in the Deep Woods, was bustling with the activity of innumerable small creatures. Standing along the rounded edge of the platform that connected the spring to the temple, Link stared straight ahead. Two marble columns stood at his sides. A series of linear, circular steps led to the stone statue of the Goddess. Modest in size, it was situated at the end of the ravine.

With nothing but the insouciant chirping of dozens of birds to accompany him, Link began making his way to the statue. Stepping beyond his friends and into the spring, he hopped nimbly from one steppingstone to another. Pipit and Midna turned to look at each other, wondering what Link was up to. Making an unwitting face, Pipit shrugged.

As his feet touched down upon the sturdy surface before the statue, he dropped to his knees. His inquiring eyes coursed the intricate monument. The image of the Goddess stood atop its rostrum, proud and true. It watched calmly yet imperiously over the spring as the forest's distant streams brought forth cascades of water. Filtered by the coarse rock above the ravine, it flowed down, transforming into sacred water as it mixed with the purified pool. He lowered his head, shut his eyes and removed his protective cap.

Link recalled the dream that had come to him two nights ago. The first part, in all of its travesty, had very nearly overshadowed the splendor of the latter half. During his trials in the woods and his captivity in the demon realm, he had been given no opportunity to explore the awe-inspiring scene which had played out before him.

He had seen her…The Goddess, exuding undeniable magnificence as she stood before him. She had been glorious. So glorious, in fact, that he hadn't the ability to look upon her. He simply saw light; a light so blindingly radiant and bright that all he could do was stare at her feet. With downcast but hopeful eyes he had bowed down, overcome by the power of her presence. She had visited _him_, of all people, in his lowly dreams…

He didn't understand it then, nor could he comprehend it now. The vision, as bemusing as it was, had left him more comforted than confused. For that, he was grateful.

He had immersed himself in the moment. In his compunction, he had practically begged her for an explanation as to what he had just witnessed. He pleaded with her for information, trying his hardest to make sense of what Fi had told him, both in Skyloft, and in the forest. Everything had been so obscure; it still was. Countless unanswered questions swirled in his mind.

Now, in the spring, he offered up another prayer of supplication. Answers were something that he needed right now, more than anything. Especially after the evening that he had just travailed. He had felt more pain, suffered more humiliation and been left to wallow in more disorder than he ever had in all of his twenty-one years.

_Chosen by you…to do what? To_ s_uffer at the hands of some deplorable murderer, and left feeling…used? And empty? For what purpose? Please…_ Link rubbed his face and shook his head. He took a deep breath. _Please, just tell me…_

Resting his hands in his lap, he sat on his heels, motionless. The glistening, rippling pool below, as blue as the sky which it reflected, captured his sight. His eyelids came down as his ears were filled with the enchanting sounds of rushing water and wildlife. These woods had been his home for days. Its sights, sounds and fragrances had been greatly missed during his short time in the demon realm.

_**You have far to go, dear one.**_

His head slowly came up. He gawked at the statue. His jaw dropped.

_**It will be well with you. Remain steadfast, and you will enjoy the fruit of your deeds.**_

Link's eyes grew wide with wonder. Leaning forward, he placed his hands onto the stone.

"What-" He started to reach his hand out.

As something brushed against his left shoulder, he lunged the other way with a loud gasp. After gaping for a moment, he resiled, giving a harsh shove to the person beside him.

"Pipit, get away!" he shouted as his friend careened to the side, nearly falling into the water. With his yellow hat clutched in his hand, he caught himself with his arms, just barely avoiding a wet landing. He glared at Link, more surprised than angry. Link stared back with a look of shock. His face softened a bit.

"Pipit…" he said, stretching his arm toward him to help him up. "I'm sorry…" Exasperated by Link's reaction, Pipit sat up.

"I just wanted to see if you were okay," Pipit explained, viewing the trees that rose from the floor of the spring. "You hadn't said a word since stepping outside." With his face turned away, Link ran his hand across the back of his neck.

"Sorry," he said again. "I just thought I'd heard…" He paused for a time. "I'm really on edge…I'm just…" Lowering his hand, he looked down and sighed. Pipit looked to his right, deeply concerned. "I'm not myself…" Pipit's gaze dropped as he observed Link twisting his hat in his hands. The metal links of the chainmail coif within the thick material crunched as they grated against one another. Inching forward, Pipit looked into his face. He seemed forlorn, and was barely able to concentrate on anything. He certainly was _not_ himself at the moment.

"Well, I won't push it," Pipit told him, enjoying the spring's peacefulness along with his friend. "But I wish you'd tell us what was wrong." Keeping still, Link's eyes shifted. Not one to lie, he was unsure of how best to answer his friend's question.

_Where to begin? _Link wondered. _How could I explain such a thing to him, or anybody? How could I possibly describe the indescribable? _He fidgeted and jittered, drawing Pipit's attention without knowing it. _Being dragged around all night…Discovering what it means to be led around on a leash…Having every last one of my flaws thrown in my face…Nonstop mental scourging…Being slapped in the face…Tormented with my own sword…Terrorized and threatened on practically every level…Infringed upon, over, and over…_Link squeezed his eyes shut and held back a shiver. _Being killed…_His mouth fell as he recalled the horror. The feeling as his own sword was driven through his body, not once, but _twice_, was unspeakable.

Coupled by endless mortification, Link's uncertainty about the future left him more unsettled than he had ever been. He could scarcely stomach the idea of anyone dying because of him, let alone hundreds, or perhaps thousands of individuals…

Now more than ever, for he had tasted death…

He couldn't seem to push it out of his head. The memory clung to him. To feel his very life slip from his body had been the most cumbersome, the most overwhelming, and the most humbling experience he had ever had. Never had anything taken command of him so rapidly. Never had anything left him so hopeless. Never before had the most meaningful antecedent events of his life surged through his mind so quickly. It had been vague yet vivid. Everything, and everyone, that had ever meant something to him made an appearance in his mind before the end…Before he had felt the unstoppable force wash over him, and weigh him down like a millstone drags a person to the bottom of a river.

The raw emotion that had soared through his mind as he considered everything that had been left unfinished…As he thought about his friends…As he thought about _her_…

With all of the claims that the demon had made, Link couldn't help but wonder…He sighed again. Should he have just sacrificed himself…Had he made the right decision…?

"Sorry I've been a royal, bungling jackass of a friend lately," Pipit said, pulling Link from his introspection.

"A what? Why?" he asked.

"'Cause of everything that happened before you left," Pipit said.

"What, in the sparring ring? Pipit, I was horrible to you, as well…You're the one who left with a concussion, remember?"

"It's not just that, although I did get way too angry that day," Pipit said. "No, I mean at the Lumpy Pumpkin. I got _way_ too angry when you pissed off those knights, and I got _way_ too angry later on-"

"Pipit, don't start, please," Link said glumly. "Slugging Groose was a bad idea, even if he did say something disrespectful about Zelda. It was stupid, and I shouldn't have done it. I almost got _you_ in trouble 'cause of _my_ rash decision. And I certainly didn't need to humiliate you on the dance floor _or_ insinuate that you were…" He paused to form air quotes. "…'of easy virtue'." Link looked down, sighed and shook his head. "Don't feel too bad. I took part in my fair share of misdeeds. If you failed as a friend, then I did as well." Not sure how to respond, Pipit pondered for a moment.

"Okay, well…I'm sorry for calling this a sanctified wild goose chase," he said. Link turned to view Pipit's drab face. "I'm sorry I said that you were walking into failure. In fact, just consider me sorry in general," Pipit said with a shrug, "for every crappy thing I spouted before you left home. It all sucked. _I'm sorry_."

"Pipit," Link interrupted, closing his eyes tightly, "just…don't. You said that even though _I_ don't like to admit it, you're usually right. And, truth is, you _are_." Link twiddled his thumbs in silence for a few seconds. "Maybe Henya was right about me." His felt his eyes gravitate toward the statue again. "Maybe _he_ was right…" As he chewed his lip, Pipit gaped.

"What? Who was right about _what_?" Link looked at him. The conscious-stricken vibe that Pipit was getting from his friend left him baffled.

"Overconfidence…" Link mumbled under his breath. Blinking, Pipit looked down.

"Well…" he said with a slight stutter. Link brought his eyes up.

"See, even you think so," Link said, bringing his shoulders up. Pipit gave a light sigh.

"Well, I _did_," he said in response. "Doesn't mean I think that now."

"Pipit, don't pity me just because of what happened."

"How can I? If I don't _know_ what happened?" Pipit asked, trying again. Hopeful, he waited for a different sort of reply. Link looked away.

"I dunno how much I can really say," Link said uneasily.

"How much you can admit to, you mean," Pipit corrected. Apprehensive, Link glanced at him. "First of all, don't forget who you're talking to. This is _me_," Pipit emphasized. "I'm not gonna judge you. I mean, in light of what I talked to you about a couple weeks ago…"

"I know," Link said. "I'm not saying that-"

"If you don't tell us, I'm just gonna assume the worst," Pipit said. "And I don't _want_ to assume the worst, unless there's a reason to assume the worst, know what I mean?" He raised an eyebrow as he locked eyes with his friend.

"Yeah, Pipit, I know…" Link said anxiously, scratching the back of his head. Pipit watched him, endeavoring to derive the truth from his body language. "…It's just that…right now, I think I'm more concerned about _you_…and what happened to _you_ in there…"

"_Me_?" Pipit asked, stiffening. "I wasn't the one laid out on the floor for some unknown reason. I'm not the one limping around like I just got the crap beat out of me." Pipit looked up, recalling his recent collision with the chamber wall. He tapered his eyes and looked at Link again, pointing toward the temple. "I wasn't with this guy for hours or days or however long you've been here." Link leaned away a bit. Pipit's glare was starting to dig into him. "I mean, you don't need to tell her," he said, gesturing toward Midna, who was dangling her feet over the water. Link turned to see her playfully swinging her legs. "But if there's anyone that you _can_ tell, it's your buddy who knows about this stuff."

"I know, Pipit, I _know_," Link said, holding his hands up. "I appreciate your solicitude. I really do. But honestly, I don't wanna talk about any of this. All I want to do is push it out of my mind as quickly as possible."

"Not gonna make it go away," Pipit quipped. "Believe me, I've tried."

"Pipit, why are you presuming that _that…_happened? What happened to _you_ in there? While I was out of it?" He took a moment to examine Pipit. He was slowly becoming less relaxed. He froze in thought before speaking.

"Nothing…I fought the guy, got knocked around a little bit. I mean, you saw some of it," Pipit said.

"Is that all that happened?" Link asked, fishing for an honest answer.

"Why? Did you see…or hear anything before you finally came to?" Giving Pipit a blank but very firm stare, Link didn't respond. Pipit's face dropped. He had no clue what his friend was going to say. He swallowed, trying not to allow his true feelings to show.

Eventually, Link very gradually shook his head. Pipit couldn't decipher whether his friend's answer was genuine or not.

"Okay, well…I'm just going by what I saw in there; while brief, it was pretty horrible." Pipit furrowed his eyebrows and intensified his stare once more. "I can't imagine what it would be like to spend an extended period of time with the 'nightmare on two legs' in there." Link broke their eye contact and turned to the statue. He chewed his tongue nervously.

"I'll be fine, Pip," Link said in a low voice. "Anything that you need to know, I'll tell you. At some point." He brought his beseeching eyes back to his companion. "So don't worry, okay?" Slumping down, Pipit loosened, trying to accept that evasive answers were the best that he was going to get.

"Is that your final answer?" Pipit asked soberly. Link almost grinned.

"For now," he said.

"What if I dive into this water, fully clothed, will you tell me then?" Link shook his head and laughed.

"Nice try. But no," he said.

"Give you ten rupees?"

"No, Pipit."

"Well, it was worth a shot." Maundering to himself, Pipit pulled his knight's cap back on and jumped to his feet. Link craned his neck to look at him. Bringing himself to the edge of the platform, he hopped toward the temple.

"It's just a day for lies, isn't it…" Pipit murmured to himself as he slid next to Midna beside the entryway. Rotating to look at Link one last time, he shouted,

"Hey! Fill in the blank!" Link's ears perked as he turned his head. "The limit of a quotient is equal to the quotient of the limits, provided _what_?"

"Provided the limit of the denominator is not zero," Link answered over his shoulder.

"True or false! A countable set is always compact!"

"False," Link stated. "'N' is countable but not bounded and thus not compact." He looked back at the water. Pipit peered down at the woman at his feet.

"Well, his brain's working okay," he told her. "I'm sure he'll be fine. He's all yours." Stretching his arms above his head and yawning, he surveyed the spring's perimeter. "I'm not going back in there for anything," Pipit insisted, pointing to the chamber. It appeared even darker when contrasted with the tranquility of the spring. "Not no way, not no how. In fact, as lovely as this wilderness expedition has been, I can't wait to get the heck out of here. I think I'll mosey around the temple grounds for a few. You seen a way out?"

"Yessir," Midna said, pointing to her left with her head down. "There's a walkway along the wall here. Looks like it brings you to a path that leads back into the forest. You have to climb up and out through the dirt, though."

"Well, good thing I brought my hiking boots," Pipit replied, cracking his knuckles.

"Don't wander too far," Midna warned. "We should stick together. Safety in numbers, especially with these violent woodland creatures bounding around."

"Oh, no worries. I got the sword which I _begged_ for, remember?" he replied, aiming a thumb at his scabbard. "I won't go far. This spring is nice but I'm getting claustrophobic." Without wasting another minute, Pipit approached the stone wall of the building. He slithered against it, inching along the narrow footpath. "Don't expect him to talk too much," he added, keeping his eyes down. Midna turned, watching him quietly as he edged out of sight. She glanced back at the young man in the emerald tunic. To her surprise, he appeared alarmed about something.

"Fi!" Link exclaimed. "Oh my gods, he must still have her…" Dismally, Link began unbuckling the straps which fastened his scabbard over his chest and shoulder. Sliding the leather from the buckle, he removed it from his back. Despondent, he shook his head...Utterly empty.

"Yes, Master?" a muffled voice called. Gasping, Link's head darted from side to side. He looked into the air.

"Fi!" he said excitedly. "You're here? Where are you?" After a frantic search of the area, his hands wandered his torso. They halted in place. With a determined look in his eye, his hands flew to his waist where he began undoing his belt. Fumbling noisily with the straps, he whipped it off of himself, allowing his two pouches to fall to the stone behind him. Reaching around, he snatched the larger of the two bags and dumped it on the ground before him. Away from his body, it felt uncharacteristically heavy…

Breathing heavily, he slowly unsnapped the top of the bag. Looking inside, his breath caught in his throat. Aghast, he reached a hand inside the bag. As always, it was much deeper than it appeared. His fingers hit the chill of metal. He shut his eyes as he lifted the foreign object.

But the object was not foreign at all. In fact, it was painfully familiar. Taking the shiny item into both hands, he gazed into it. His reflection stared back at him from the glossy metal. He tilted it back and forth, careful not to cut his palms. He knew how excruciating _that_ could be…

Still cradling the jagged piece of metal, he reached into his pouch again. Discovering another object with a similar feel, he pulled his hand out. Holding the items side by side, he confirmed that they were both part of the same whole. He heaved a shaky sigh. The previous night's events had now been established as truth; not only from the demon's mouth, but by cold, hard iron.

In the quiet of the spring, Link placed both fragments down beside him. The first piece, erosed and uneven, made up the bottom of the blade, as well as one-third of the blade's left side. The second piece, long and thin, represented a large portion of the right side. With a bit of maneuvering, the pieces fit together seamlessly.

With another deep breath, Link plunged his hand into the bag again, and, as expected, came upon a third chunk of metal. Approximately one-quarter of the blade, the third fragment fit above the other two.

Unable to take his eyes off of the fractional artifact next to him, Link dipped his hand into the brown bag a fourth time. His hand was met by emptiness, however. Exploring the void with his fingers just to make sure, he talked softly to himself. Quickly moving on to the smaller of the pouches, Link made one more attempt. But, the only objects contained within the bag were three small glass bottles, an oaken boomerang, a razor wrapped in linen, and something light, textured and silky…

Grasping the balled up item, Link's hand freed the material. Burying his hands into its softness, he came face to face with Zelda's beautiful, white sailcloth. It opened into its elongated, rectangular shape. He fingered the tiny gems and pearls which had been painstakingly hand-sewn onto the fabric. Every time he looked at the sailcloth he discovered an additional detail which was worthy of being adored. Kind of like its creator. He held the cloth to his face, inhaling through his nose. It still smelled nice, even after being held hostage in the demon lord's pocket for hours. Link shook and closed his eyes.

His hands dropped into his lap. His half-shut eyes plummeted to the jigsaw puzzle which comprised the Goddess Sword; or, what remained of it, at least. The fourth shard, a large piece which included the tip, was missing.

"Fi…?" Link asked softly. Her response was delayed. "Fi?"

"Yes, Master," she said again. Link breathed a sigh of relief at the lovely sound of her voice.

"Fi, thank the Goddess," he said, resting his eyes as he sat and twisted his fingers into the sailcloth. "Are you okay? After what happened, I mean…?"

"Yes, I am," Fi answered.

"Even though the sword's been damaged like this?" Link asked worriedly.

"Yes, Master. At this point in time, as long as even a sliver of the Goddess' sword exists, I will have a place in which to reside."

"Mmm. You have no idea how happy I am to hear that, Fi," he told her, lifting one of the shards to his face. It began to glow under his touch. He studied it curiously. "So this really happened, didn't it…?"

"Yes," Fi stated. Link nodded, pursing his lips awkwardly.

"Do me a favor, Fi? Don't mention anything about last night while anyone else is around?" He waited.

"Master, there is a ninety percent chance that your companions will discover the truth over time."

"Well, I'm rooting for that ten percent," Link told her. "And...I'm still trying to wrap my mind around all of this. What does this mean, anyway? Now that the Goddess Sword's been destroyed? What needs to be done?"

"The sword has not been destroyed, Master," Fi corrected. "It has merely been split into four parts." Link looked into the distance.

"Okay, four parts, so…where's the fourth? 'Cause I certainly don't have it."

"No, you do not," Fi affirmed. "The fourth section of the blade is no longer within this vicinity."

"No longer?" Link asked, confused. "Was it taken? Do you know where it is now?"

"Yes. I am able to pinpoint its current location with one-hundred percent accuracy," she said. Link's eyes opened up.

"You are?" he asked enthusiastically, sitting up straighter. "Where is it? Who has it?"

"Ghirahim, Master," Fi answered. Link's expression turned rigid the second that she spoke the demon's name. A warm, fleeting pulsation ran up his back. He took his time in responding.

"Uh, _he_ has it?" he asked, viewing his reflection.

"Yes, Master."

"Um, where is he?" Link asked, looking around distrustfully.

"His current location is the sealed grounds," Fi informed him.

"The sealed grounds…You mean the place I visited when I first came here six days ago? The Sealed Temple, and all that?"

"Correct, Master." Link exhaled, comforted by the fact that the demon was a good distance away.

"So, how does this work, Fi? Are you able to inhabit each fragment? Or are you only able to use the one that I'm holding right now?"

"I have the ability to transfer my voice, as well as my form, to each section, if necessary."

"Oh…" Link answered, his mind spinning with questions. He drew the shard inward. "So, what happens now that the sword is broken? This weapon is special. It's unique, and one of a kind…and I…broke it."

"It was not your fault, Master," Fi declared. Link started to roll his eyes.

"That's what you told me after the tornado incident," Link said. "And I'm still trying to get over that. And now the sword that I was entrusted with…this relic...I took it somewhere _one time_ and it was rendered useless!" He glared into the sky. "That…demon," Link snarled, almost growling the words. He ran a hand down his face. "He's the catalyst." Lowering his head, he looked at the shards again.

"So, what is it that I need to do, Fi?" Link asked, muffling his words with his hand. "What do I do with this damaged sword? Does it need to be repaired? Who-"

"Should I leave you two alone?" an unforgettable voice called behind him. Startled, Link jumped. Midna brushed her fingers along his shoulder and plopped down next to him. Looking to his right, he saw two bare feet. With a small grin, he watched her shimmy to the platform's edge and dip her toes into the water.

"Well, should I?" Midna asked dryly, eying the flickering scrap. Link peered down to see that he had been hugging the fragment to his chest. "'Cause I can go." Her eyes slowly came up to meet his. They were piercing, even when she didn't mean them to be. Link brought his hand down.

"Actually, I was about to propose to this metallic slab. Do you mind?" Giggling quietly, she kicked her feet lightly about, creating small waves in the undisturbed surface.

"Well now, it seems even _hell_ isn't enough to overturn your sarcastic sense of humor," she remarked. "Perhaps you're even more special than I thought."

"Hell?" Link asked, verbally and mentally questioning her. "Why do you say that? Do you know what happened?" She gazed sternly into his eyes, educing uncertainty from him.

"Not at all," she said, her unreadable face obscuring her intent. "I'm simply stating what I've inferred. Comparing the way you look _now_ to how you looked before you left Skyloft…" She quickly glanced him over. "…I'd say you've been through the wringer-physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically…" She looked him over a second time. "As well as other ways." She gave him a tight-lipped stare. He tilted to the left.

"Other ways?" he asked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, you tell me," she said. Still holding the sword fragment in his lap, he ran his fingers across it.

"Well, focusing on _myself_, and talking about _myself_ is going to be a bit difficult at the moment, I'm afraid."

"Oh? Why?" she asked, lifting her feet and watching the water drip from her skin.

"Because, tragically, I have too many questions about you," he told her. Concentrating on her feet for a moment, she smiled, enjoying the sounds and sensations as she swung them in and out of the spring. Contented, she hummed softly to herself. Link observed as she swished about in the water.

"Maybe I should leave _you two_ alone," Link retorted, slightly annoyed. She giggled again, keeping her eyes down.

"This water is special, silly," she said. "It has healing properties. It's actually turning the dull ache in my feet into a rather pleasant tingle." She looked at him slyly, admiring the look on his face. "You should try it. You look like you need it."

"Oh? And I suppose you know what I need?" he asked skeptically. Still grinning, she rolled her head to her other shoulder.

"Maybe I do," she replied. "I'll tell you what. If you show me yours, I'll show you mine." Link looked at her strangely for a few moments. "We can even reverse it. I'll tell you what you wanna hear, and after, you can share a little bit with me." Allowing for the silence to hang in the air, Midna waited, enjoying the coolness on her skin.

"You're not gonna tell me what happened in there unless I tell you everything that happened to me?"

"More or less. I'll talk first. Then, you tell me what you're comfortable with. Okay?" The auburn in her irises jumped out at him. He deliberated in his mind for a minute, trying to decide how badly he wanted to hear her explanation. Unfortunately, he wanted it pretty desperately. What he had just witnessed between her and the demon had turned his perception of her upside down.

"Alright," he finally said, hesitantly. Pleased, she reached her hand toward him.

"Knight's honor?" she asked. He lifted his hand and wrapped his fingers around her palm. Stopping, he felt her suppleness through his gauntlet. His gaze dropped. They hadn't touched since before he had set off on his journey. "Well this won't do," she said, looking him in the eye. Snapping back to reality, he looked up.

"Huh?" he asked.

"This," she repeated. Pulling her feet from the water, she turned toward him, folded her legs beneath her and brought her other hand around his wrist. She sank her fingers underneath the leather covering his right hand. Feeling her nails rub against his palm, he looked up. With a swift yank, she peeled the glove away, freeing everything below his knuckles. His body rocked forward as she pulled, ruffling him a bit. "Much better." She towed him closer, joining her bare hand with his. "Knight's honor?" Her lips curved ever so slightly.

"Knight's honor," he said. Stationary, they studied each other. Link was so fixated on her that the sounds of the forest became unnoticeable. Their hands remained together.

"Do you remember what I told you about my old boss, and how he sustained a slight _injury _after he put his hands on me?"

"How could I forget?" Link asked, not taking his eyes off of her. "'Slight injury' is an understatement, though."

"Okay," Midna said, running her teeth along her top lip. "Well, what I didn't tell you was how that injury came about." Blinking a few times, he explored her face. She broke her gaze with him to look down. He watched her mouth move as she spoke. "Well, something…happened," she explained, cocking her head. "Something that I didn't understand at the time." Her glowing eyes came up as she watched a pair of bluebirds flitter about in a nearby tree. "It was similar to what happened in there." She looked toward the open door of the temple. "But to a lesser extent. This demon is far more powerful than any man."

"How do you know anything about him?" Link asked, his eyes lighting up. Midna shook her head lightly for a few seconds.

"When it happened the first time, I had no idea where it had come from, or what had triggered it. It was…unexpected." Link's jaw started to fall. "Not knowing what I was dealing with, I kept it to myself for months…Until I found someone who I could talk to about it-"

"Who? Where were they from?" Link asked, coming forward. Amused by the way that he was unintentionally crowding her, she placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled.

"Let's not agonize over details," Midna said in a soothing voice, playing with the crisscrossed stitches at the center of his beige collar. "After all, I know you're not planning on filling _me_ in completely, right?" He held back his questioning, knowing she was right.

"Anyways," she continued, "I visited this person, regularly, for almost a year." She stopped to think. "I never tell anyone this. Most people wouldn't understand…" She gave him such a serious look that he instantly knew how important this subject was to her. He nodded, showing her that he understood. "She helped me to grasp it, what it meant, where it originated from…why it was there…I suppose you could say that I developed this skill. But…" She shrugged once more. "It's lain dormant for years. At least, until…"

"Today?" Link asked, his voice full of wonder. She nodded, stretching her hand out on his chest. He squeezed her other hand.

"Is that all you're gonna tell me?" he asked, wanting more.

"What else do you want to know?" she asked, her eyes on his tunic.

"What else do I want to know? Plenty, Midna. There's plenty I want to know." His commanding tone drew her eyes up, as well as her eyebrows. "How did you do what you just did? So effortlessly?" He shook his head. "I can hardly believe what you just managed to do in one short minute. This man, this…_demon_," he snapped disdainfully, causing her to flinch, "who practically…" Not giving himself the opportunity to stumble over his words, he shook his head. "Look what he did to the Goddess Sword." Midna's eyes trailed his arm down toward the fragmented blade. "I can't even tell you what he did _with_ it. You wouldn't believe me anyway." Midna's eyes grew marginally larger as she reacted to his voice.

"I swear to the gods, Midna," he said as his chin dropped, "I've never felt so…" His tongue stopped moving as his ability to express how he was feeling began to slip out of his reach.

"Castrated?" Midna asked. Link gave her an intense stare. He squeezed her hand again as she stroked his chest. It expanded and contracted erratically. Her word choice had struck a nerve.

"Well," he began, "the thought of using that word wouldn't have even crossed my mind, but…yeah, I guess that describes it pretty well." He gaped at the water below them. "Especially when my last memory was my own weapon being demolished."

"Link," Midna said, turning his face with her fingertip. "Whatever happened, it's not your fault. Really." She leaned forward and followed his eyes, forcing him to listen. "I was able to do what I did because I happened to have the element of surprise on my side. He was so preoccupied with the two of you that he had no way of anticipating my approach, or what sort of attack was coming his way. Truthfully, I didn't even plan on doing what I did. I came with my bow and arrows, which I dropped in the hall outside the chamber. I saw what was happening, and I snapped. I felt that same, familiar anger rise up…"

Midna stared into his blue eyes, picking apart the emotions which were displayed within them. This normally immovable young man was far more troubled than she had ever seen him. Something was definitely off.

"What did he do to you?" she asked, practically demanding an answer from him. Part of him wanted to give her one. Part of him wanted to come clean about everything, to confess to her all of the reasons why he felt so inadequate; so beaten down and conflicted. He took a cleansing breath.

"What did he do to me?" he iterated. "Even though I know that he's got to be the father of all lies…" He gritted his teeth. Midna listened as his eyes glossed over a little bit. "…He made me question everything that I could ever possibly question about myself." Sympathetic yet unfulfilled from his lack of straightforward statements, Midna rested her hand on his cheek.

"Your skin is _incredibly_ smooth," she noted, admiring his face. "How do you manage to stay so clean-shaven in the woods, of all places?" Saying nothing, he looked away shamefully. Her question, while innocent, had an answer that he didn't want to divulge. "Um...do you want to go see what Pipit's up to?"

Turning again, he tightened his hand around hers.

"Midna, what else do I not know about you?" Link asked. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. He looked at her pessimistically. After enduring and surviving the past several days, he knew that anything, good or bad, was possible.

"I think we've both got some undisclosed facts about ourselves that we can share," Midna told him. "Can it just wait until we get home?" Link's face remained blank.

"Why not?" he replied.

"You know, for days, I wasn't sure if I was ever going to see you again," she said, caressing his neck. He curled his head down skittishly, unsure of what to think about her touch, or anyone's touch. He thought about the demon, and the imprint that he had left in his mind. He was sullen, and Midna sensed it effortlessly.

"I didn't get the chance to say 'happy birthday' to you yesterday," she said. Link nodded.

"It's okay," he said in response. "It was a pretty disappointing birthday all around."

"Well, I was gonna do something special for you," she said with a gleam in her eye, drawing his interest.

"Oh?" he asked.

"Mmmhmm. But I'll tell you about it when we get home. I hardly think this is the place for it."

"Mid, whatever it is...I'm sure I wouldn't let you do it," he said as a small grin tugged at his mouth. She rubbed his hand with a chuckle.

"I'm just trying to get your mind off your troubles. Is it working?" She smiled broadly as his face turned away.

"A little bit," he admitted.

"I really missed you," she said, urging his eyes to return to her.

"I missed you too," he replied, "a lot, actually." His body became rigid as she leaned unexpectedly inward and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. His eyes widened as she sat back. He breathed in, savoring her fragrance.

In one fluid motion, Link's face gravitated toward hers. Pressing their lips together, they each found relief in the other's embrace.

….

Standing with his arms behind his back, Pipit glanced at the sky, amazed by the appearance of the clouds from such a distance. Hunting through the endless blue, he spotting dozens of cloud varieties and formations. He saw the underside of an island against a backdrop of cerulean. It was but a small-scale model of an exceptionally special place: his home.

He sighed, missing Skyloft with every fiber of his being. He longed to get himself, and his injured best friend, back home where he belonged.

Pipit reached behind and clutched the hilt of his sword with his left hand. The sound of the Knight Commander's blade leaving his scabbard rang through the surrounding vegetation. Several birds flew away, startled by the sound. In an effort to kill time, he whipped the sword in several sharp figure-eights. Leaping about, he frightened even more ground-dwelling creatures.

Circling the blade around, he held it beside his face. Breathing heavily, he paused. Something bright caught the very edge of his peripheral vision. The color was unnatural, and stood out powerfully against the foliage. Rotating slowly, he discovered an odd sight. It was several yards away, and obscured by bushes, flowers and shrubs. It was magenta…

Squinting, Pipit focused through the green blur. When he sensed movement behind a distant tree, he sprung into action.

Walking briskly with his weapon in the lead, he zeroed in on the enemy who he knew stood around the corner.

Antsy, he twirled his sword. He approached the tree which the creature was hiding behind. As he moved closer, a gust of wind sent a long, pink skirt flailing around from behind the trunk. Halting, he gasped. He recognized the color, and the meticulously detailed panel that lay on top of it.

Then, a face peeked out from behind its refuge. Pipit's mouth dropped and his eyes shot open as he looked upon long, pale, unmistakable hair. Stepping away from the tree trunk, the person revealed herself to him. Pipit's sword slipped from his hand.

"Zelda…?" he called cautiously. He could have sworn he was seeing a ghost, or an illusion. She couldn't possibly be real.

"Pipit…?"

Well, she certainly sounded real.


	15. Promises

Chapter 15

Promises

Midna's tongue might have been even sharper in the way of gentle persuasion than in the art of silky speech…

As the pair sat amongst the sounds of running water, Link was losing the battle for dominance, and gladly so, this time. He wasn't quite sure why he was interested in doing such a thing right now, seeing as though he had been intruded upon by the demon on more occasions than he'd like to think about. Plus, he had no idea who this woman truly was in front of him, with her eerie magical abilities, and curious secrets…

And hands…all over his chest…and drifting into his lap.

A master at suppressing his desires, and corporeal functions if need be, they still thrived beneath his shroud of control, and the lid was finally about to pop off…

_Sky child…_

Maybe it was the harmony exuded by the atmosphere which made him feel at one with her. Maybe it was just because he had missed her so much. Maybe it was because his body had been through so much in a surprisingly short amount of time. From the second he had awoken in the demon's 'bedroom'- or whatever it was - he had been made into a laughing stock to a one-man audience who happened to think that watching someone repel his 'natural inclinations' was not only a spectator sport, but also hilarious. The whole thing had been horrible and wrong on so many levels that he couldn't even count that high.

_One day I'll sever that deviant's palatal organ right from his mouth and crush it under my heel…_

This criminal had completely blindsided him with his assault, which kept coming, and coming…all night long. It had been an abomination; a grave injustice against all things decent and proper. This villain claimed decorousness, but manifested little more than extortion.

The execration. The hate coupled with disgust. The more Link thought about it, the more it flourished in his mind. His emotions had already been running high. His mounting anger served only to elevate them further.

But in this moment, unlike the previous night, it was okay to acknowledge how good another person's touch felt, and to go for more…uninhibitedly.

Well, as long as she found it agreeable.

_Sky child…_

He heard it again. He wasn't sure what the murmur in his mind had been. Now, he knew. With a choppy gaze, his eyes searched, but found nothing, and no one…besides her. Descending further into passion, he batted his concern away like a bothersome insect.

Tilting his head to accommodate her movement, Link opened his eyes. Hers were closed, of course, as was the polite way to do it. From what he could surmise, she seemed interested in continuing, but he wasn't sure. This was Midna, after all.

"Ummm, Midna?" Link asked, his voice enmuffled.

"Hmmm?" she moaned into his mouth, still leaning into him. He felt himself grow a bit warmer in reaction to the sound.

"Mmm, that birthday present you mentioned?" he breathed, bringing one gloved and one bare hand to each of her soft shoulders.

"Yeah?" she asked, pulling away just long enough to speak, but quickly plunging her open mouth into his. It took all of his strength not to unleash some sort of excited noise.

"Um, what is it?" he asked, his eyelids fluttering from the pleasure being driven into him. She opened her reddish-brown eyes and laid her closed lips onto his.

"Why?" she asked, making quick eye contact before separating his lips with her tongue. He rocked back and groaned softly, trying to concentrate on his inquiry. It was important.

"Uuuuh," he said as more of a moan than anything, "can I cash in on it, soon?" The moment the words left him, Midna pulled away. He suddenly found a wry grin in front of him.

"Cash in on it?" she repeated. "You want your present now? Right _here_?" With shifty eyes, Link took a small breath.

"Uuuuum," he hummed, looking in her face, "yes?" With a little giggle she placed her hands on his.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," she said with a hint of reprehension. "It's not here. It's actually at home, in your room." She witnessed his marginally flushed face turn even redder.

"Oh…" he said, bringing his palm to the back of his neck. Realizing that he had made an erroneous, and rather naughty assumption about her, his head started to droop. Suppressing the majority of her smile, she dragged her fingers across his. "I'm sorry," he said, feeling ashamed. "That was really presumptuous of me. I dunno why I automatically assumed…" His voice trailed off. Feeling a bit bad about how embarrassed he looked, she decided to ease his pain. Right after a bit of teasing.

"Are you trying to say that I care _only_ for the sensual?" she asked, enjoying his response.

"No! That's not it at all," Link insisted, afraid that he had offended her. When she cracked a smile, he lowered his shoulders.

"Well, in your defense, I wasn't clear about it," she assured him. "And before you left, we'd been, well…" She shrugged amusedly. Link sat wordlessly for a moment.

"Yeah…" he muttered, still feeling guilty. He couldn't quite believe what he had _almost_ asked for.

"Link," Midna said, compelling him to look up. "I think we just need to go. You need to rest, and eat something, and possibly visit the doctor for your injuries. I believe some convalescence is in order." She lifted her hand to his face, expecting him to flinch, which he did. "Link," she said again, shaking her head. "I know this isn't really what you want to do right now. What happened to 'whatever it is, I wouldn't let you do it anyway'?" As she bore into his eyes, he sighed. "Out of character doesn't even come close to describing what you just said to me. I don't want to do anything of the sort with you unless you really want to. It has to be for the right reason."

_Since when is a person required to file a formal request with a list of reasons for wanting to fool around? _Link asked himself in the safety of his mind. Grumbling, he beat back his stubborn hormones.

_Sky child…_

Again. It was louder this time. His questioning eyes fell to the sword.

"This is almost a resumption of our little romp before you went to the Bazaar," Midna pointed out, jostling him. Stationary, he watched as each fragment of the sword was gathered into her hands. "Right after Zelda disappeared. It's only natural for your emotions to be a bit out of control at a time like that, and like _this_. You were distraught over her, and I was upset over you. That's why it happened. We weren't thinking straight." Link watched quietly as she placed the wreckage into his bag. He felt a deep anger start to blossom as he observed her actions. It was not an anger toward her, but toward the demon…The very fact that the Goddess Sword, _his_ sword, had to be collected into a useless pile like this…"Knowing you, you've spent the last several days feeling guilty about it."

Snapping out of it, Link's eyes rose. He nodded, acknowledging her words, whatever they had been.

"Let's not let it happen again," she told him.

Sitting as rigidly as the trees which were reaching for the sky from the bottom of the spring, Link saw his pouch come up. Feeling strange about her, and even stranger about the voice, he hesitantly took it.

"Better put your belt back on," Midna suggested, aiming a finger toward the thick strip of leather. "Your tunic is hanging pretty loosely. You've lost weight. I need to get you home and cook you a _huge_ meal." Link had to nod at that.

"No objections here," he said happily.

"And give you a nice foot massage," she said quietly, leaning toward him.

"Yes, ma'am," he said in jest, grinning. Her glimmering eyes shifted for a moment.

"And, when you're ready," she began, drawing closer, "_truly_ ready, I wouldn't mind allowing you to _cash in_, as you so eloquently put it a minute ago." He swallowed again.

"I…okay," he finally said, almost stuttering. He shook his head as he watched her grin.

He wondered if he would ever attain that level of confidence with her which he'd always had with other women. Never before had he blushed so much because of a female; nor did he ever care that much about what women thought. Granted, Zelda had always been his main focus. No one else had ever mattered to him in a way as intimate as this. In their unmatched closeness, he had always been comfortable with Zelda.

In spite of it all, Link smiled. Squeezing his hand, Midna smiled back. It wasn't her fault that he had a tendency to turn into a blathering idiot every time he got a little flustered. She didn't do it to him on purpose. It was just…him; his mind and body displaying how he felt about her. Trying to change his usual reaction to her was like trying to stop the force of gravity.

Perhaps what he had uttered to the demon on that dusty road had been spoken from the heart…

He opened his mouth. He looked around. The setting was gorgeous. The ambiance was perfect. The sun's rays were streaming, a refreshing breeze was blowing, and the sounds of summer were pouring into the spring. The forest itself seemed to urge him. He peered into her eyes, wanting to say it.

The situation, however, left a lot to be desired. Surely there was a better time to discuss such matters.

Following a sincere disclosure about her past would be an ideal time…

"Midna?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"How did you know who _he_ was? When you walked in?"

Silence filled the air. Link bit his lip.

Declining to answer right away, she allowed for him to continue.

"Are you…connected to him, or where he comes from…somehow?" he asked nervously.

They couldn't take their eyes off of each other as they sat, thinking, meditating on the question that hung between them. Link didn't know what to expect, and he feared the worst. She looked as though she was about to speak. He tipped forward in anticipation, but eased back when she shut her mouth. As pretty as her plump, unmoving lips were sitting in a quiet pout on her face, he longed for them to start moving.

"Well," she said, watching him petrify, "you know I'm not one to beat around any bushes, but, I thought we were done talking about this stuff." She gave him an unyielding look. "Because I know you're not talking any more. So why should I have to?" Link hesitated.

"Well, I jus-"

"Unless you're not finished telling me about your experiences with him," she said, "and everything that you _did_ with him." Feeling the need to fidget, Link wiggled his toes in his boots. "You wanna keep talking?" she asked, nearing his face. He shook his head.

"No, not really," he admitted. Taking a breath, Midna sat back. She ran her fingers through her copper hair.

"Okay then. There's plenty of time to talk about serious matters later. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I suppose," Link said, wishing for a way to change her mind. Conversely, he certainly didn't want to have to tell her the disturbing details of the previous evening.

_Fair enough_, Link conceded. _But, ugh…I want to know so bad…_

_Sky child…_

This time, Link pulled in a taut breath and looked behind him. He could've sworn a whisper had penetrated his ear.

"You okay?" Midna asked, receiving his dubiety with unremitting kindness. Amazed by the wild menagerie of hard and soft that unequivocally converged to form the incredible woman before him, the voice slipped his mind. He relaxed significantly, passing his influence to her. She smiled.

"I need to go get my bow," Midna stated. She quickly jumped to her feet, offering her hand to the young man below her. He stared at it. "Wanna come? If not, that's okay. I can brave the chamber alone." With a light scoff, Link grabbed his gear and hopped up beside her, ignoring her hand.

"Trying to stomp down what little pride I have left, Midna?" Link asked jokingly. Refusing to be left in the dust, he hurriedly laced his bags onto his belt before fastening the buckle. With his pouches secured, he lifted his scabbard from the stone platform.

"Why would I wanna do that? Silly boy," Midna said lightheartedly. Link grinned, having missed her playful words. "There are certain special, _designated_ times when I'd expect you to swallow your pride for me." She winked. "Now isn't one of them."

With a twist, she headed back to the temple. Link pursued, skillfully wrapping and locking his empty scabbard into place.

"I wonder what happened to my shield…" he wondered as he sped up to a limping jog.

….

As predicted, Midna's bow, along with her quiver full of arrows, was waiting for her right where she had dropped it. In the buzzing quiet of the hall outside of the chamber where everyone had regrouped, Link watched the readeption of her weapon.

It was a gorgeous object, befit for nothing less than a warrior princess. He had never seen her weapon before, though he had given ear to her endearing talk of it on many occasions back in Skyloft. She had described it as a sturdy recurve bow, sleek and crescent shaped, save for the top and bottom which curved smartly around. Chocolate-hued leather wrapped the grip on the center of the limb. Etched proudly throughout were the chaotic, swooping shapes which represented the Twilight Knight Academy's emblem. The weapon looked outstanding in her hands. It was everything that she'd said it was.

Gifting him with a quick demonstration, her pin straight arm stretched the bow in front of her slim body. The top of the composite bow hovered above her head, while the bottom extended to her knee. With the keenest of focus, her right hand pulled the string to her chin as she drew one of her precious arrows back. As still as a statue, she radiated expertise.

Enthralled, Link watched as the tension in her hand grew stronger, and stronger, until it was finally released, sending the arrow across the room and into a tree with astonishing speed and accuracy. Still holding steady her stately posture, Midna turned her head toward him.

"How was that?" she asked. Trying to contain the wowed expression on his face, Link held his empty hands behind his back.

"I'd say spectacular, but that doesn't give it the justice it deserves," Link said honestly. "I've seen a lot of female knights try their hand at archery, and even more wield a sword. But _that_…" he said, grinning and shaking his head, "…was first-class." With a sweet but confident swagger, she slid toward him.

"Thanks," she said, nuzzling the side of his face. "Was it so impressive that you feel inspired to retrieve my arrow for me?" With narrow eyes, he shrugged.

"Certainly, muh'lady," he said with a small bow.

"Thank you, muh'lord," Midna said in return, curtseying as he paced across the room.

…..

With one question after another overwhelming his mind, Pipit stared. The young woman stared back, looking beleaguered. Pipit noticed that her face was creased; visibly careworn. She had most certainly been through unspeakable trials.

Her dress, the same pink and blue garment she had worn the day of the Wing Ceremony, was tattered, slashed and torn. One of the hand stitched sleeves was starting to come loose at the shoulder. The soft fabric was damp and dirty, showcasing the harshness of the forest on the SKA graduate's petite frame. Her platinum blond hair was completely mussed. It clung to blue ribbons which had once wrapped two thick, neat tendrils.

The last that Pipit, or _anyone_ knew, was that Zelda was gone, possibly dead…

He gaped some more. She stepped closer, her icy eyes the same pleasant yet imposing forces that they had always been.

"Zelda?" Pipit asked again. "Have I gone completely off my rocker? Am I seeing this correctly? Are you really _here_?" With one more step of her small, dainty feet, she smiled and blinked, slowly and tiredly. Pipit watched her wayworn approach. "How is this possible? Maybe the low elevation is making me, like…brainsick."

"Pipit," she repeated, holding a hand out. Pipit gasped, noting the bloody scratches that littered her pale skin.

"So…you _are_ here, I'm not crazy, right?" he asked, holding his hands by his sides. "How…?" He paused, needing something from her. Hesitation overtook both of them. Neither knew exactly what to say in this moment. She looked up at him, feeling tiny as he seemed to tower over her. Her eyes settled on his chest, making him question what she was thinking.

"Zelda, are you okay?" Pipit finally asked her. At the completion of his heartfelt sentence, her face fell, dissolving into sadness. She immediately ran for him, crashing into his chest and practically begging to be embraced by his brawny arms. Her dirt stained cheeks, which were quickly becoming tearstained as well, buried themselves into the front of his yellow tunic. The force of her tiny body sent him back a step. His head came up as his eyes broadened. Gawking over her head at the ground behind her, his mouth fell open. His hands, splayed in surprise, came to rest around her shoulders.

The feeling of Zelda sobbing uncontrollably in his arms left Pipit speechless. He simply stared, curling his fingers into her dress.

"…Pipit…" she cried, hiccuping and trembling. He kept staring, taking in several shaky breaths. He didn't know what to say.

"Zelda…" he began before his voice faded. Her fingers scrabbled across his chest as she pushed into him. Feeling awkward, he sought to get her attention. "Zelda," he said again, more loudly. Rocking her face back and forth, she gave several long, hitched sighs.

"Pipit…" she groaned, wrapping her slender arms around his waist. Turning her face, she rested her cheek on the comforting wool.

"Uuuh," Pipit said, looking around. "Zelda, what's going on?" Still sniffling frenziedly, she tried to calm herself. Her sevres blue eyes closed despairingly, exhausted. "Where did you come from? How long have you been here? Were you waiting for us this whole time?" Pipit felt her shake her head against him before laying her ear over his heart. "Zelda, what in the world happened to you?"

"Pipit…I just…I'm just…so happy…to see you," she eked out in a jittery whisper, sounding as if she hadn't seen another person for an age.

"I'm happy to see you too," Pipit said sincerely, still marveling in his baffling discovery. Straightening up, she let her head fall back, showing him her red, spent eyes. Gazing into them, Pipit became lost for a moment.

Beautiful…

Blinking, Pipit remembered where he was. He was standing on the surface, in the woods, far away from anyone and anything familiar; aside from his friends.

His friends…Link…

"Gah!" Pipit shouted, pointing to the spring and startling Zelda. "What're we doing standing here? You've got someone waiting to see you!" The sheer amount of excitement pouring from him was astonishingly outdone by her lukewarm reaction to the mention of her best friend. His hand in the air, Pipit gave her a stupefied look. "Uuum…you've got someone - who nearly killed himself for days to find you - waiting for you?" Holding a shrug, Pipit waited, finding her apathy impossible to comprehend. "Don't you wanna see him?" Giving her one last chance to say yes, he waited. Quickly growing intolerant, he scooped her around the shoulders to guide her to the spring. "He's just over there! Don't you want t-"

"Pipit, no!" Zelda cried, twisting out of his grip. He turned to her, trying to decipher her irrational behavior.

But speaking became an impossibility when he found his throat intruded upon by the cold stab of a dagger.

"Stand down," a commanding voice ordered. Stopping, Pipit looked at Zelda, realizing that his assailant was directly behind him. His hands shot to his neck.

"Impa, stop!" Zelda cried. Pipit stared wide-eyed. "It's okay, let him go." Everyone halted in place, not wanting to disturb the already volatile atmosphere.

"What the hell's going on!" Pipit demanded, tilting his head sideways. "And who the hell are you?"

"Pipit," Zelda called, urging him to relax. "Impa," she said again, putting her hands up. They both looked into her tired, raddled face.

To Pipit, she sounded even more authoritative than she normally did.

Grudgingly, the knife pressed to Pipit's neck began to recede. He dropped his hands with a heavy breath. Anticipating something monstrous, he turned.

A tall being. As tall as him, but extremely lanky and long-limbed. Her skin was a medium shade, and her silvery hair was short, except for the single long strand that hung from the right side of her head. It was decorated by three red beads. Surrounding her large, dark, slanted eyes were two distinctive tattoos: a large, decorative crimson eye covered her forehead. Inked under her left eye was a white teardrop.

The remainder of her appearance was disconcerting, however. Her body was clothed tautly with a dark blue garment. Her arms were wrapped in strips of white material. But every inch of material looked as frazzled and ragged as what covered Zelda's body. Between their ragged clothing, observable injuries and overtiredness, the two looked downright terrible.

"You guys look like you've been put through the proverbial wringer," Pipit stated, giving Impa the eye. "What the heck's going on here? Who _are_ you?"

"She's my guardian, Pipit," Zelda informed him, wiping her face and sniffing.

"Guardian?" Pipit asked, his curiosity flourishing. "What does _that_ mean?" He turned to Zelda. She had clasped her hands behind her back, looking notably uptight. Pipit leaned forward, his face growing expectant. "Well?" he asked, pushing for an answer.

"Um…" Zelda drawled, "it means that…she _saved_ me, the day I fell to the surface." Pipit listened, completely hushed by her assertion. "…From a group of bokoblins."

"Bokoblins?" Pipit asked thoughtfully. "Oh, you mean those…snaggletoothed, pig-faced little ruffians?" Twisting uneasily, he realized that he had stuck his foot right into his mouth. "Um, I mean, I guess they're not so little if you're, you know, a non-knight student…"

"Yeah…" Zelda said quietly, digging the toe of her frayed sandal into the dirt. "But, um…she also saved me from the one who had summoned me to the surface in the first place…" Pipit's eyes began to flare elatedly.

"The one who summoned you? You mean the one who pulled you to the surface? The tornado and all?" Peering into his eager face, she nodded. With his knightly authority galvanizing him into action, he stepped forward.

"Zelda, we need to get you out of here," he declared adamantly, a wave of intense seriousness flooding his face. Zelda looked at him forlornly. "Maybe you can fill me in as we're _leaving_. I mean, I don't need any more reason to wanna hotfoot it outta here. Are you coming?" He gestured toward the temple. "And I'm not exaggerating when I say that Link went through hell to find you." He drilled a glare right into her. She responded with a look of pure misery. He opened his mouth to speak again, but vacillated, wondering what her problem was. "Don't you wanna see him?" Zelda appeared to be temporarily out of words. Pipit sighed.

"Look," he said, "he came here a week ago, by himself. We watched him go, knowing it was a bad idea. Next thing I know, I'm having _dreams_," he emphasized, "of horrible things happening." Zelda flinched under his heavy gaze, turning her ear away from the words. "I had to come…" He swallowed dryly. "And then when I got here…" He stopped again, his voice almost shaking. Zelda's eyes began to glisten. "…I find some vicious freak about to play puppet with his unconscious body."

Rolling her head to the side, Zelda gasped out loud, her mouth agape. Pipit viewed her, feeling bad about inducing negative feelings within her, but not regretting it, either.

"I have no idea what did or didn't happen before I got here," he added. "But, all I know is that he _deserves to see you_." He couldn't have spoken the words more emotively if he had tried. "Why don't you want to see him? He's your best friend. Maybe he didn't succeed in finding you, but…" Sensing her disapproval, he glowered at Impa. "…he's still your hero, is he not?"

Tossing her head forward, Zelda's face fell into her pained hands. Pipit could hear the tears begin to flow once more. He waited, watching, confused…

…..

Leading the way alongside the outer wall of the temple, Link stepped lively. Like both of his loyal companions, he wanted to escape this place. He wanted to return home, if only to mine for some answers; to extract every last bit of information that Fi had stashed in her memory banks, in the comfort of his own room. To figure out which steps to take to help Zelda. To find out what he needed to do to repair this priceless objet d'art in his bag. He wouldn't rest until he righted the wrong that had been committed against him, and Fi, and the Goddess, and the Goddess' sword…

_Sky Child…_

Removing his steady gaze from his feet, he investigated the glade which was adjacent to the temple, and housed the connective trail into the woods. He growled lowly, cautiously, so as not to make his frustration known. He had heard the demon's voice in his head and in his dreams a handful of times before he had taken to the surface; not that he knew what the voice was at the time, of course…But, now, Link was reminded of those incidences. Those times when his drab thoughts would be interrupted, where his daydreams would be infiltrated, where he would wake up wondering why he felt the way that he did…

He shivered. He was sick and tired of thinking about it. In fact, the very idea of the demon made him ill. As he strolled from one end of the peaceful walkway to the other, escorted by the chirping of birds, he glanced at Midna. He could scarcely restrain his eagerness to get her home, and to get her talking…

A bend was rounded. A grove of trees was circumvented. A hill was traversed. The pair rotated, admiring the sight of the Skyview Temple as it lay behind them.

All that was left now was to find Pipit.

"Wonder where he is," Link said, running a hand through his hair.

"I warned him not to go far," Midna said, vicariously reprimanding him through Link. "I think we've all spent enough time alone in these woods, trying not to _die_."

"How did you even find me, Mid? And Pipit too? You guys are crazy for even coming here…"

"Well, I don't know how Pipit found his way, but I just felt like I was led here. Like I could sense where you were, even from miles away."

"Well your sense of direction is well beyond anything that I could ever comprehend, that's for sure," he said. "The Goddess Sword has…" He hesitated. "Well, it _had_ the ability to track targets, either inanimate or living. That's the only reason I traveled this deep into the woods, or stumbled across this corner of it-"

"Well maybe it's not such a terrible thing that your pride's been vanquished," she giggled teasingly, studying the ground. "Asking for directions shouldn't be as painful of a task for you as it is for most knights." Awaiting his clever retort, she sashayed onward, not noticing that he had fallen behind. Ceasing, she pivoted just in time to see a rather odd sight.

In the shadow of at least a dozen trees, Link stood motionless, as if his ability to move had been arrogated. His expressionless face, coupled with the amount of time he was spending in this strange position, caused Midna's smile to waver. She backtracked, examining his face. It was fraught with concentration.

"Link?" she asked in a near whisper. "What are you-" Her voice died out again. She gaped at him, her face adopting the same absorption. What had stolen his attention had now reached her own ears.

Voices. Two of them. Coming from a nearby clearing.

Static, the pair's eyes magnetized.

"Who is Pipit talking to?" Midna breathed. Link's enlightened irises told her that he already knew.

Sparing no haste, he dashed for the clearing. Beating the ground away with his feet, he raced, exhilarated. Midna followed, suspecting that she knew who the mystery person was.

As soon as they arrived in a place where they could see Pipit, Midna saw that their guess had been correct. Link's head shot up, his face froze, and he stopped breathing. Midna almost didn't recognize him with the bizarre mixture of emotion that was flowing from him. He suddenly looked as though his pain was of absolutely no consequence.

"Link! It's her!" Midna cried with a curbed squeal. She first stared at Zelda, and then at Link. His state of jubilation was evident, but he wasn't moving. Gaping in disbelief, she put a hand on his shoulder. "Link! She's alive! Go to her! What're you waiting for?" Peeking into his face for several seconds, Midna's grin deserted her. "Link?"

He stood still and silent. Ecstatic was but one scant adjective to express his gratefulness for being blessed with the opportunity to see her alive and well, right before his eyes. His best friend. The one he had searched undyingly for. The one he had endured the demon, his realm, _hell_, for…The one who he had never been separated from.

The one who danced solitary in his thoughts as he lay dying…

He took a deep breath, monitoring her from a distance…

Midna could see the disappointment seeping from his pores. She looked back at the group in front of them. Zelda was crying, Pipit was arguing, and a mysterious woman was staring him down.

"Link, _go to her_," Midna persisted, shaking her head. "What's going on? Who is she?"

"She doesn't want to see me," Link said weakly, not bothering to hide his bruised feelings.

"She _what_?" Midna cried with exasperation. "Why are you standing over here _analyzing_? This whole past week you thought she was dead! Aren't you dying to see her?"

"Of course I am," Link told her tonelessly. He continued to remain a silent, unseen watchman as Pipit moved about animatedly, and Zelda listened, distraught. Too far away to hear their voices, all he could do was watch.

"What do you mean you can't face him?" Pipit asked through gritted teeth. "You've gotta be kidding me…What did he _do_?"

"I just can't," Zelda whimpered, her tears flowing anew. Impa towered over her as she stood sentinel. Pipit glowered at both of them.

"But, you'll see him at home anyway, right? Aren't you coming with us?" Pipit asked, about to unleash his fury upon the injustice that was unfolding. When Zelda shook her solemn head, he really started to get mad. "What? Where are you going? And most importantly, why can't you go see your best friend who busted his ass to help you?" Impa's eyes began to blaze as she sensed Pipit's impending forcefulness.

"Pipit, I jus…" Zelda started, rubbing her eyes, "I feel too guilty to face him…" Pipit stared even more.

"Guilty? For what?" he asked, his shoulders rising as he leaned inward, unaware of his concealed friends.

"He suffered because of _me_," Zelda sobbed, hardly able to speak in full sentences. "The only reason Impa and I were able to remain hidden from the demon after he almost killed her…" She choked back her sorrow for a moment. "…It was my fault…"

"Your fault? How could any of this possibly be your fault? _You_ were the one taken-"

"I knew it was gonna happen," Zelda blurted out. Pipit stopped short, taken aback by her statement.

"What? How? Since when can you predict the future?"

"Well…I didn't know until…I bathed in the spring."

"You didn't know that you knew until you bathed in that spring over there?" Pipit asked, pointing. She nodded. "What does that even mean?"

"It's hard to explain…" Zelda said, still distressed. "Impa has shared what she knows. And my memory has only partially returned. I still have to visit one more place-"

"You're leaving?" Pipit asked, having a hard time believing what Zelda was disclosing.

"I have to…purify myself in the Earth Spring…just as I did here…" Her chest heaved as she tried to gain her composure. Pipit's jaw was about to become unbolted.

"Earth Spring? Well…where is _that_?"

"Impa knows the way…" Zelda said.

"Oh well _that's_ reassuring," Pipit spat, unconvinced.

"Pipit…"

"Look," he said, taking a large step and rousing Impa's instinct to protect. "Am I the only one who thinks this entire situation is freakin' crazy?" He eyed both women. "Big black tornadoes sucking you to some new place we've never been? Demon's trying to kidnap you? I can only assume you're talking about that raving lunatic who I just had the joy of meeting." Everyone stared at each other. "And…_purifying_ your _body_ and regaining memories? From what, a past life?"

"You would be wise to choose your words more carefully when you are addressing Her Grace," Impa declared, stepping between the two humans. Directly at eye level with the odd woman, Pipit pulled his shoulders back and stood up taller.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"The Goddess' mortal form. You are speaking to her," Impa explained, accentuating her every word.

"What!" Pipit called, stepping sideways. "Zelda…"

"Don't come any closer to her," Impa commanded. Flanked by her arm, Pipit huffed.

"Look beanpole," he said irefully, "I don't care who you are. We didn't come down here to risk our lives, just for some loony stranger to drag our friend away to only the gods know where."

"Pipit, I have to go," Zelda said, her eyes bloodshot.

"The hell you do," Pipit said mulishly. "Look at you. You can't stay out here."

"You can trust Impa, Pipit," Zelda said, almost pleading with him.

"How do I know she isn't working for frickin' _Dracula_, wherever he is?" he asked, crossing his arms stubbornly. "How do I know she _isn't him_? After the morning _I've_ had, I wouldn't be surprised!"

"It's okay, Pipit," Zelda said soothingly, gliding next to Impa. She looked up into her guardian's face. "It's alright, Impa, just let me talk to him for a minute." With her chin dipped to look upon the young woman, Impa nodded reverently. Turning slowly and smoothly, she shot Pipit a fierce look of warning. He glored right back, refusing to be intimidated. As she retired to a nearby tree to supervise them, Pipit and Zelda turned to look at one another. As she interlaced her fingers into his burly, gloved hands, he went partially numb.

"Pipit…" she said, her somber face to the ground, "you believe me, don't you?" He sighed at the sound of her stuffy, nasally voice.

"I will if I absolutely have to," he grumbled.

"I don't just mean about Impa, and about what she said…but about Link. And how I can't bear to face him…"

"You're gonna have to eventually," Pipit said. "Lucky for you, he's got a weapon of mass distraction keeping him away. Otherwise, _he'd_ be the one standing here, asking question after question…"

"Speaking of her," Zelda said, her eyes jittering about, "and everything that she entails…" Pipit stood questioningly, gripping her hands. "There's something that I wanted to talk to him about after the Wing Ceremony. There's something that I wanted to talk to _you_ about…"

"What's that?" Pipit asked, his face adorned with interest. He wanted to hear it, but at the same time, he didn't. Part of him knew what she was referring to. Something that hung between them in Zelda's final days in Skyloft. Unspoken words, communicated by subtle glances and soft touches. They had grown more frequent, especially in her last hours.

Pipit was reminded of how she had asked _him_ to join her for a flight through the clouds after the ceremony. But he had declined, and Link had been the one to sustain a nearly life ending injury in the open air, instead of him.

"I was about to mention it to Link as we were flying, but…" Her hands swirled, and Pipit nodded. "I wasn't sure how he was going to take it."

"Maybe you should talk to him about it _now_," Pipit offered, hopeful that she would listen.

"No, I…I had originally wanted to speak to you about it first, and that hasn't changed. Why should I bring up such a sensitive subject if you don't…" Her voice cut off again. Pipit's feet shifted as his hands squeezed.

"Let's just get this over with," Pipit said with a heavy breath, looking as though the wait was killing him. Zelda hid a meager grin from him.

"…If you don't feel anything as well," Zelda said, concluding her thought. With a tense but relieved roll of his eyes, Pipit finally exhaled.

"Zelda, I don't know if…" he started to say. Lifting her head, Zelda smiled at his aberrant hesitance. He felt his heart skip a beat. Or two. Maybe it just stopped beating altogether.

"Do you?" she asked, carefully extracting the truth from him as he squirmed. Her eyes gleamed as she looked up, not maliciously, but kindly.

"Uuuuuugh," Pipit groaned unevenly, shaking his head.

"What?" Zelda asked expectantly. A portion of her delighted in his reaction, knowing what it meant.

"I feel…_bad_," he whined as the guilt rode him in droves.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about," Zelda said comfortingly. She stroked one of his clasped hands. He started panting, unnerved. "Pipit, what is it? Just…tell me." Looking into her eyes, he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Okay!" he shouted, looking into the air. Off in the distance, Link and Midna flinched at the sudden burst of energy.

"What are they talking about?" Midna asked as they both watched. Link didn't respond.

"Okay," he said again, dropping his chin and shutting his eyes. Zelda's expression changed as she waited on his admission. "I do feel something," he said dismally. "But I have no right to."

"How long?" Zelda asked, her eyes growing. Her interest piqued to the maximum, she rose onto her toes.

"Oh gods," Pipit groaned again, placing a hand atop his yellow knight's cap. "Too long. I'm sorry," he said, visibly upset.

"Sorry? For what?"

"No, I'm saying it to him," Pipit said, twisting around. "To Link. It's just so _wrong_."

"Pipit, it's not wrong. We've known each other since we were little kids." Glancing at her feet, she swallowed. "I've felt it for a long time, myself…" Her admission drew his gaze. "But I…paid it no mind. To be honest, I wasn't sure what it was, until recent days." She looked back up at him, her slim body pulling a few inches closer to him. "Lately, every time I look at you, I just feel something…electric." Pipit twitched slightly as if he felt the jolt behind the word. "And when you tried to make me feel better at the party a few weeks ago, and you hugged me-"

"Oh gods," Pipit said again, struggling internally. "We gotta tell Link about this. I don't think I can bury it any longer, this is way too horrible."

"No," Zelda said demandingly, shocking him a bit with her pitch. "Now's not the time. We haven't even had time to discuss any of this, and I have to leave. There's no sense in alerting him to something that we know nothing about, especially if it'll exacerbate what he's already going through."

"He still loves you," Pipit stated, his body and voice calming. "That's what makes this so horrible. He has Midna, sure, but…he hasn't let go of you yet. He won't admit it, but he hasn't _really_ figured out what he wants. I feel like the crappiest friend on the planet telling him something like this, but I'm dying here…"

"I know he hasn't let go," Zelda said as their eyes locked. "I haven't completely released him, either."

"Then why are we talking about this?"

"Because this needs to be dealt with. Soon. It can't tarry and lurk about, lying in ambush like this..."

"I know, but-"

"Your Grace," Impa called in a stern but steady voice, jouncing them from their intimate discussion. "We must go, now." Zelda turned, a look of longing seeping from her. She rejoined with Pipit for a moment, retracting once more.

"I have to go," Zelda said sadly.

"Why now?" Pipit asked, holding tightly to her hands.

"Because _he_ will return soon."

"He?"

"The one who pursues me," Zelda whispered, breathing in the fragrance of Pipit's tunic. "We ran from him for days. Ever since I fell to the surface and was aided by Impa, he's chased me. He's chased _us_. Knowing how powerful he is, she tried her best to keep him from me as we headed to the spring. We were successful for days, but he caught up with us just outside of the temple. He almost killed her…" Her voice cracked. "…as she protected me." She blinked the warm tears away as they threatened to rise up again. "She warded him off, but just barely. He continued to follow us as we concealed ourselves in the halls of the temple. He was right on our heels, but, then…Link came along." Pipit stopped breathing for a moment.

"I don't know what to say," she continued mournfully. "The only reason I was able to cleanse in the spring, and the only reason Impa was able to regain her strength after the fight was because he came for me."

"All the more reason for you to go to him," Pipit insisted. "You have to." His eyes beseeched her, making her shoulders drop remorsefully. "Come on, you have to. He's gotta be right over there. Just, please," he implored her. With that, Impa stepped up.

"Enough," she said, shoving an arm between them. "Your Grace, it is time." Stridently, she gestured in a direction that would lead them deeper into the forest. Pipit balled his fists at Impa's peremptory manner.

"I'm sorry, Pipit," Zelda said, chewing her lip. "But…" As she looked into his blue eyes one last time, a centripetal force spurred her. Bouncing onto her toes, she pulled him by his hands. He gave a nervous blink as she ascended to give him a firm kiss on the cheek. His mouth dropped as he hunched over against the tug.

"Wait for me," she whispered into his ear.

Slowly leaning away, Pipit felt her hands retreat as she turned, bounding over to her protector who waited with open arms. Impa received her, wrapping a long limb around her dainty shoulders. Her golden hair flowed in the breeze as Impa tossed the young man a cogent look. His hands hung by his sides as he observed their egression.

Link gaped in awe. Immobile for a moment, Midna stared.

"Link?" she asked, as they witnessed Zelda's exit. She looked to her left, uncertain.

The assortment of emotions on his face made him unreadable. He looked devastated, disappointed, dejected, furious and confused all at once. Midna was reluctant to speak. "Link…"

He turned away before she had the chance to say anything more. Looking into the distance, he marched away, leaving his friends behind.

...

The sun was beginning to beat down. Beams of light poured through branches thick with early summer flowers. The shrill sounds of twitterpated creatures assaulted his ears as he tromped through the grass and bushes, alone…

He passed through an open meadow, and then through a large grove of twisted, knotted trees. He didn't know how long, or how far, he walked. He just had to get away.

With empty hands and a heavy heart, he traversed an ancient path, untouched by human feet for countless centuries. His distinct footprints imprinted themselves in the soil.

He strode faster, brushing past aged stone walls. The ghostly foundation of a farmhouse passed by, unnoticed.

A wistful wind surged through his hair, sweeping his damp face.

_Sky Child…_

A voice billowed through the trees. Link looked to his right. An outcrop sat next to a cliff; the large, sharp boulders stretched upward before the drop-off. Link stepped toward it, beckoned.

His fingers jittered. His emotions ran feral. His breathing was irregular.

"Sky child." No longer a vague rustle, the voice called out to him. His head no longer flagged, he sped up.

The stone invited him quietly. He slipped inside of it, the open forest left astern. Rounding a boulder as large as a house, he discovered that he was not alone.

A being with clothes betorn, white leather sullied and face cut. He leaned his tall, muscular body onto the rock. His arms were crossed regally. One leg was bent as a single foot rested.

"You don't look…_happy_, sky child," the demon discerned, not even looking at him. Link breathed in as he stood but six feet from him. Ghirahim's daunted appearance was startling.

Silence teemed between them. The demon's face rose.

"Why did you come, sky child?" he asked, his voice as sleek and arresting as it had always been. Link stood silently. "Is it because I was right?"

With no response to give, Link looked down.

"I thought so." Ghirahim brought himself to his feet. He looked down at the human from his immense height. The human froze, seething, disdainful…but not toward him.

"Did I not say you would have nothing to return to, hero?" the demon asked, stepping closer. Link didn't move, but grimaced, feeling a strange power from the demon. The essence of another was all over him. "Do I not look so bad now?" Link's face shot upward suddenly, showcasing his flushed, wet cheeks. The demon halted.

"Not look so bad?" Link asked, his voice shaking. The demon frowned. "You killed me."

"Taught you a lesson," Ghirahim corrected, holding his hands out and tilting his head to the side. "Did you not learn anything?" Link stared, dumbfounded. "Do you not realize that you'll suffer this same fate if you refuse me? A war _approacheth_, sky child. It looms, waiting for you." Before Link could move, the demon was upon him. "You will pay dearly for the lives that will be lost, human."

"It won't be my fault…" Link said breathily.

"Men, women, children, _babies_, sky child…" Link gasped as he felt the demon's hands on him. "You will be coated in their blood." The demon leaned into his face. "You will swim in it."

Link wondered if he was dreaming. His surroundings didn't feel quite real. He felt a lack of sensation, numbness from what he had just seen between his two best friends. He didn't understand any of it.

"How will you fare when you are imprisoned for your war crimes, hero?" Ghirahim sibilated, his tongue coursing his lip for a moment.

"What?" Link asked, his lips parting worriedly. Ghirahim grinned.

"If you survive, that is," the demon purred.

"Why wouldn't I?" Link asked with a head shake.

"When that long awaited time comes for us to face each other in battle, will you find it within yourself to defeat me?" As he felt the demon's silken fingers running over him, he closed his eyes, unable to concentrate on his thoughts.

"As one addicted to an irresistible substance is fey to never dispel it, so you, sky child, will _never_ be able to slay me." He ran a fingernail down the human's ear. "What happened between you and the girl in the garden doesn't count, sky child." Link's eyes popped open. "You pulled away from her, denying her." He grasped Link's shoulders, jerking him upward. "_I will be your first._" Link shuddered at his words, aflame with a searing promise.

"You are nothing more than your own instrument, sky child," Ghirahim sang. "A violin screeching and crying out dysphonic notes as I, your rosined bow, caresses you." His hands began to tighten. "As I work you, tune you, refine my stroke, your sounds will become melodious." His fingers began to dig into the area below the human's neck.

"You will _beg_ for it, hero…"


	16. All's Fair in Love and War

_WARNING: Smexiness is contained herein, albeit carefully worded, which is why I think it's safe. For anyone interested in learning more about M vs MA, I started a thread on this topic in Writer's Anonymous. We all know the definitions are a bit blurry, so all we authors can do is use our best judgement.  
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_Enjoy, then ;p_**  
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Chapter 16

All's Fair in Love and War

"Do you actually believe that by escaping the demon realm, you've fled the battle? Oh no. No, sky child. The battle has only just begun."

How he had ended up in the demon's clutches once more, he simply couldn't understand. He had parted ways with him just two hours prior. Yet, something had drawn them together again; fate, the Goddess, himself…There was no way to tell. His emotions were whirling. His thought processes were inhibited.

"I foresee wonderful things, sky child. Do you entertain as much faith in my clairvoyance as you ought to?"

It seemed mere minutes ago that he had held Midna in the same position that the demon now detained him. The world, which was turning upside down, seemed to be conspiring against him; to pull him to the demon, to take him away from everything he held dear.

Under his air of calmness lay a storm. Link almost felt as though his fever from the previous night had begun to return…

At some point during his and Ghirahim's short conversation he had turned. He stood with his back to the demon, pressed to the front of his body. He looked to the side as he listened to him. His feet were still, his arms hung down, and his heart was aflutter. A medley of thoughts and feelings conglomerated to form a mass of conflicting emotion. It was strange and frightening to be in the arms of one's enemy.

But this enemy… He was like no other.

"You claimed that to set foot in my residence again would be a thing unseen. Well, I have news for you, hero."

Link was angry. So incredibly angry. More angry than he had ever been in his life. To endure something that was by all rights a crucible, and then to return and discover that the one he had stretched his neck out for, the one for whom he had entered the battle in the first place, did not wish to see him - that took the cake.

_Why doesn't Zelda want to see me? Did I do something? Did I fail her? Is Pipit the reason she doesn't want to see me?_ He grimaced. No matter what, he would always welcome Zelda with open, loving arms. Even if he was…jealous.

And Midna. What to do about Midna? Having been acquainted with each other for only a short time, it was natural for untold secrets to remain between them, but still…

Not to say that their period together hadn't been breathtaking. It was the stuff of legends, truthfully, in the way that he had fallen for her so swiftly. It certainly had never happened to him before. She seemed to incite in him impossibly weird and wonderful feelings. To say the least, she had certainly woken him from the slumber of a rather ordinary life.

Before Midna came along, life for him had been the usual run-of-the-mill existence of any Skyloftian knight-in-training. Link had his small group of trustworthy friends, his two best friends who he equally adored, a comfortable place to live, a satisfying college career, and a bright outlook on his future as a knight. Everything had been perfect. Then, as soon as Midna had appeared, everything went askew.

Link's face twisted with his thoughts. He recalled the event that had occurred in his room three weeks ago, before Midna had come into his life; an eternity ago, it seemed.

Pipit, in all of his sometimes overbearing protectiveness, waited in his dorm in the middle of the night to warn him against the dangers of unprotected sex; as if he actually believed that such lewd activities made up even a single minute of his and Zelda's nightly meetings in her room. How ridiculous…

Link's eyes shifted. Of course he had denied Pipit's unmerited accusations. At the same time, however, his friend's solemnity came not purely from his own imagination.

Pipit had seen it. So had many others at the academy; both students and instructors. The way Link had been looking at Zelda in recent days. Even amidst her dark period of introspection, people had noticed the difference in her behavior toward him, as well.

That is, before she had become aloof and detached from him, making him suspect that she no longer cared for him. But that had been a particularly difficult time for her, with the disturbing dreams that she'd been having, full of unsettling visions. The change had ignited in the weeks before her disappearance, crawlingly building to a maddening state of hopelessness for him up until the day that he met Midna at the Lumpy Pumpkin.

Link winced as he remembered the disquieting weeks leading up to the loss of his best friend. Other than the tiny morsels of information that he had shared with Pipit, he had spoken to no one about what Zelda's remoteness was doing to him. He felt as if a limb was slowly, methodically being severed. Eye contact during intimate conversations and friendly hugs between classes became a thing of the past as her internal struggles began to drag her down. Married with burdensome school and ceremony responsibilities, her turmoil was changing her. And it was killing _him_.

But they still had their nights. Those quiet, melancholy times in the evening when she needed him there; when his presence was imperative, as hers was to him.

He had never said it to her, nor had he told it to Pipit. He had never even fully admitted it to himself. But, during those nights in her room, he started to feel something different for her. It had been subtle, of course, surging only as her small, soft hands would rest upon him: squeezing his shoulder as she cried, twisting her fingers into his as she talked, lightly touching his thigh as they sat together on her bed…

Later, in her room, when she surprised him with an early birthday gift, he was left completely at a loss. The nuances, the suggestive talk…

Link shivered. Old feelings rose to meet new ones as he felt long fingers trace him.

Everything he had seen and felt in the past several hours, from debilitating illness, to intense pain, to humiliation, to the apparent duplicity of best friends, had been dreadful. Nothing had been positive. Nothing had felt…good.

Except for the demon's touch, of course.

Link's gaze came up. What good were meditations of the heart if he was about to be run through by his adversary, _again_?

"Such tumult exists in you. Can fascination truly be coupled with this level of disdain?" Link's head tilted.

"What?" he asked, staring ahead. The feel of immense arms around his shoulders and chest left him in a silent panic. How did he end up here? His breathing picked up.

"How can one with such hatred for another still desire that other so?" Ghirahim whispered into the human's ear. With a shortened breath, Link dropped his head to the side, only to have the exposed skin on his neck brushed. Afraid to make any sudden moves, he bit down on his lip. "You hate me, don't you, sky child? Or, you say you do, at least. But why, of all things, would you allow me to do this?" The demon slipped Link's woolen cap off of his head before burying his slender nose into thick blond hair. The human froze as he caught sight of emerald as it rushed to the ground. As one hand secured him to the demon's chest, the other toyed with the sensitivity between his neck and shoulder.

"I don't-" Link started to say before his voice was cut off by a ragged breath.

His head came to rest on his enemy's arm. The sensation produced by the demon's fingers was surprisingly distracting. There was something strangely appealing about it.

"Is it your anger, sky child? The loathsomeness brought on by your disreputable friends? Because I would simply _hate_ to be used as some sort of _palliation_ for your discontentment." With a smile, he breathed into Link's ear, tightening his arms around him as the human's upper body swelled in response. Ghirahim sensed his arousal.

"They're not disreputable," Link argued, trying not to lose his concentration. "They just… I mean, I don't-"

"You're beginning to stutter, hero," Ghirahim mocked, compressing him further.

"Then let go of me," Link said, lifting his chin.

"But you don't want me to, do you?" Ghirahim asked, still rubbing, enjoying the human's mental struggle as much as the previous evening.

"Of course I want you to," Link insisted.

"What do you _want_ me to do?"

"I want you-"

"Is that so?" Ghirahim interrupted, circling a finger.

"What? No! I said-"

"Just shut up and enjoy it, hero," Ghirahim soothed with a mellowed tone.

"What?" Link asked again, his eyes darting as precariousness worked to steal his nerve.

"This. What is so wrong with just letting loose for a moment?"

"You're kidding," Link spat over his shoulder.

"Don't you think you've earned some much deserved gratification, sky child? You are only human, after all." Link shook his head agitatedly.

"What do you mean?"

"Something to divert you from your troubles; from your friends who have proven to be more of a disillusionment than a solace."

"That's not how it is," Link grumbled. The single aspect of his position that he was grateful for was that the demon couldn't see his watery eyes.

"Of course it is."

"You're my enemy," Link stated, not only to the demon, but to himself. "Why don't you just fight me, kill me, and get it over with?"

"We already played that game, hero," Ghirahim said with a grin. "Remember?"

"I mean kill me _for real_," Link gnarled through gritted teeth.

"Oh, but I already have, sky child."

"No you haven't. I'm still _here_," Link said in a shaky voice.

"That's not what I mean, human," Ghirahim told him. As a second hand began fondling the other side of the young man's neck, his shoulders came nervously upward. "You _know_ that's not what I mean."

As the demon's mouth poured a smooth melody, his hands emitted entrancement. There was something different about the demon's embrace, and Link couldn't help but react to it.

"Do you know what it is yet that you _owe_ me, sky child?"

Link tried to stand still, but he found himself twisting and jittering against the demon's touch. He beat back his conflicting feelings, angry over their presence, and livid that he was failing to prevent the top from blowing off of his emotions.

This demon, this fiend would be just as happy to see him choke in a pool of his own blood as he would be to watch him writhe helplessly in pleasure. Link knew this. It was the epitome of love and hate, it seemed, and he couldn't understand it. It left him breathless with worry, disgust, and intrigue…

It was all becoming too much. He hadn't felt this addled since he was a young boy, fumbling through life as a lost soul. The strangeness of it all…Leaving his home to come here…Being dragged against his will into a forsaken realm…Hoping with every ounce of strength that he had to see his best friend again, only to have his reunion with her taken by another…His other best friend, no less…Finding out that Midna was keeping vital secrets from him…

Feeling like he suddenly didn't belong anywhere…

Heavy breaths burst from him as his emotions swirled. His head rocked to the side. He had never felt like this. He couldn't get Zelda's face out of his head. He loved her, he finally admitted, more deeply than a friend loves another. He loved Midna as well, but, at this point, she was a liar; possibly a deceiver. And Zelda, the one he had faced endless danger for…

He just had to explore the possibility, or he would never be content.

Yet, it seemed that Zelda's love for him, which she had confessed to in recent days, was gone. Perhaps she had made the decision to move on because of Midna.

And what did Pipit think he was doing?

Link had so much hard thinking to do.

_All the people I love… _Shaking his head, his eyes watered again.

"I've proven you wrong, sky child," Ghirahim informed him, smirking. "Very, very wrong."

"Why?" Link asked reluctantly. He could barely keep his wet eyes open as his body was gently jarred. The demon's pleased face sat just above his head, out of reach of his sight.

"You said you'd never enjoy my touch." Ghirahim's voice was as smooth as satin as his spread hand cupped Link's chest. "How does it feel to be made a liar of, hero?" As untouched places became filled with sensation, Link's jaw fell.

"I'm not a liar," Link said tightly, straining against the feeling. Staring into the trees, he concentrated hard on maintaining a composed front, but his breathing had long betrayed him.

"Maybe not a liar," Ghirahim said flatly. With curiosity dressing his face, his hands swept down, clasping Link's waist above his belt. His blue eyes dropped as he watched, stunned. "Perhaps just _wrong_." The demon's hands began to knead his torso. "You could redeem yourself, you know."

"Oh?" Link asked, wondering why he was even responding. His face scrunched as he tried to resist the urge to curl away. Not normally a very ticklish person, he found himself afflicted with a major case of the goose bumps. Either his skin was extra sensitive, or the demon had become more adept at pushing his buttons.

"Does our little rendezvous make up for the get-together that you missed out on earlier?" Ghirahim asked, loving the human's restlessness. His hand teetered over the edge, hovering above unexplored territory. Gasping for two entirely different reasons, Link glanced behind him.

"How did you know that?" he asked, his voice hushed and tense at the mention of Zelda.

"Do yourself a favor, sky child. Make a mental note to swear off asking that question of me, lest you become a broken record." Link looked ahead again.

"If you knew she was in the vicinity, why didn't you…go after her?" His face took on a pained look. The demon's hands felt so good. No, not good…Amazing.

"A slight mishap with an unexpected visitor," Ghirahim said. Link felt fingertips begin to dig into him as the demon spoke. "Your little girlfriend is a special individual, did you know that?" Link winced from the sharpness of the fingernails, confused as to whether or not he was truly here against his will…

"I sort of figured," Link replied painfully.

"Overzealousness, guilty pleasures, and reckless curiosity. All things I am given to, sky child. This day, I fell to one of them."

"Are you saying that Midna stole your resolve?"

For several seconds, no one spoke. As the demon pondered, his hands traveled at a snail's pace. Clinging to his alertness, Link's mind raced. To keep the demon talking was most likely the best choice.

"Why do you look like that?" Link asked, turning his face behind him again. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the demon grin.

"Why, are you concerned for me, sky child?" he asked with a sway of his head. Smiling at the lack of a response, he took a moment to feel, and to _see_, the human's polarity. He could deny it all he wanted, but the evidence of the physical change was as clear as the cerulean skies suspended above. 'All's fair in love and war', was all the demon would tell him.

The next several minutes were hell all over again. Or perhaps heaven, depending on one's perspective.

Endlessly mocked for putting undue faith in other people, and further derided for being too sentimental over women, Link's frustration blossomed. Before, he was sure that his experiences in the demon realm had provoked him to the height of his anger and disgrace. Now, he was convinced that he hadn't known either state until now.

'Do you know what it is that you owe me?' the demon kept asking him. As he was turned in Ghirahim's arms and forced to look him in the face, he shook his head, knowing that the demon recognized his dishonesty. Ghirahim claimed the truth promptly, however, by taking the human's mouth into his own. A familiar sensation – but stronger than before - drove into him.

Everything that the demon did was pleasurable; a rather agreeable diversion from his anxiety. Link was nervous, torn and uncertain, but he accepted the demon's treatment.

Gripping his hair as he had done so many times before, Ghirahim forced his thoughts upon the human, holding him still during the pleasant jolt. Link sensed himself becoming lost in a world of images, ideas, notions and reflections; a world of pure thought. It felt too good to be real…

_"We are a bittersweet symphony, sky child, wouldn't you agree?"_

_"I want to go back, please just let me go…"_

_"Do you remember our time in the manor, outside of the upper hall?"_

_"Of course…"_

_"When you embraced me fully?"_

_"No, I wasn't…"_

_"No use playing coy, hero, especially when we are there once more."_

_"This is so wrong…"_

_"That is precisely what makes it so right, sky child. Don't you grow weary of hiding how you feel?"_

_"I grow weary of nothing. I'll fight you to the very end."_

_"Don't be a fool. You are no match for me. Your desire has caught fire."_

_"No… I hate you."_

_"Humans always hate that which they are addicted to. Hate, as well as love."_

_"Are you saying I'll _love_ you?"_

_"In some way."_

_"Absurdity at its finest."_

_"Time will tell, sky child."_

_"I want Midna… I don't want anything from you."_

_"And the spirit maiden. Don't forget her, human."_

_"Fine."_

_"I find it interesting that you'd prefer death over me. It will not last, sky child. You will falter."_

_"I'll always choose death over you."_

_"Do you wonder what happened to the other hero in green, human? The one who was _just like you _in physicality as well as in mind? What do you think became of him?"_

_"I don't know, but even if he was like me, I am _not him_."_

_"It seems as though you have a theory as to what it is that you owe me, sky child, which proves you to be not quite as dense as you appear."_

_"Oh, thanks…"_

_"But if you want the whole truth, you know who to ask. Do it soon, sky child. Ignorance will get you nowhere."_

_"I'm sick of this. I want you to fight me with a sword and not with your vile words."_

_"Oh, like I told you when you awoke in my home, I have already _won_ this battle, human…"_

In a split-second's time, the demon pulled away as Link found himself off of his feet and falling. As his back crashed to the ground, he shouted, completely losing his breath. He twisted beneath the demon as he felt his wrists pinned to the dirt.

"Ah, we've been here before, haven't we, sky child?" Ghirahim purred in Link's face. "Except this time, you're enjoying it a little more." The demon's eyes flashed before the human, preparing to pull him in. Ghirahim took the opportunity to lean down and place his pale lips onto Link's left ear; his favorite area to touch. Feeling a prickly, tingling sensation where the demon's body was touching him, Link dug his heels into the dirt.

"Have you ever noticed how problems, especially those that originate in your mind, get _worse_ over time instead of _better_, hero?" The demon glared down at the wriggling human. Fury and delight warred for dominance in his black eyes.

"I…" Link started to say, still unsure as to why he felt the need to respond to such injurious questions. A myriad of feelings clashed for the upper-hand within his own eyes, as well.

"Your emotions are raging, sky child," Ghirahim said breathily. Link had never heard such a level of excitement in the demon's voice. The afterglow of what he had taken part in earlier was draped over him like a shroud.

"You seem a bit…_upset_, that I have a piece of your sword, hero," Ghirahim teased. "What are you willing to do to get it back?" With a grin, he pressed a knee into the human's lap. Shocked by the sudden pressure, his cheeks began to flush. The demon immediately took notice.

After all this time, after dancing around the act all night, it was finally happening. Or was it? Link's mind went blank.

"You're turning rather damask, _again_, sky child," Ghirahim taunted, licking his lips and tasting the air. "Especially the tips of your ears. It's rather…cute." Link quickly looked away, trying to stop his eyes from communicating his thoughts.

"You would not have come here if you didn't _want to_, human," the demon insisted, massaging Link's wrists. "I do believe you have passed my test." Link turned back, attracted by the glimmer of truth in his words. He shut his mouth tightly as the demon moved along his body. "Just admit, my pint-sized hero, that even though your limited intellect cannot establish an explanation, that you are ductile to my beckoning. _Then,_ and only then, will I be happy."

An indrawn breath rushed into Link's lungs as he felt an influx of pleasure where the demon was rubbing. He tossed his head once more as he arched upward. As usual, the demon savored every moment. This human was not only aroused, but he had come here on his own accord. Beautiful.

"I could have easily done this during our first meeting, human, do you realize that?" Ghirahim asked, his voice rising. "I could have made sport with your helpless body as you lay sprawled and unconscious on the temple floor, long before I decided to let you live. I could have asserted my control a second time while you were prostrate and bound in my castle. In fact, our trip was littered with golden opportunities. And do you know why I didn't take them?" Hanging over the human's face, he waited.

"Someone is stopping you…" Link told him in a near whisper, afraid of what his voice might sound like.

"Mm, perhaps," Ghirahim professed, carefully dropping his weight as if poking a bubble to see how much pressure it could withstand. "But there is one very large, significant difference between our previous time together and _right now_, human. Do you know what it is?"

Memories of being chained to the demon's floor planted themselves at the forefront of Link's mind. He couldn't think of anything other than the strange challenge he had undertaken, for which the demon was to blame. It was exhausting and disturbing in its own right, but it was more than that. And it was happening again. Except, this time...

"I said, do you know what the difference is?" the demon asked, kneading again. A sudden, small whimper escaped the human's lips.

"You'll lure someone in just to kill them, over and over…"

"Not just someone, sky child," Ghirahim said huskily, closing his eyes as his leg brought another snivel from Link's mouth. "_You_."

Link felt his left wrist suddenly released. A bated arm was quickly replaced by a coddled groin.

"These could be our last moments together for a while. Let's make it special, hero."

Caught off his guard, Link cried out as a river of warmth gushed into him. His body lifted along with his free hand as it groped at pleats of red velvet. He gaped at the sky, wide-eyed.

"The difference is, human, that right now, you _want_ this, and no amount of refutation will discredit that. And why is that, hmm?" As his skillful hand rubbed, he took pleasure in the human's reaction. A bounty of amusement presented itself to the demon. The demon lowered, nudging the young man's face aside as he claimed his sensitive ear.

"One day," he whispered heavily, "you will find yourself in this very same position. But not here. On that day, you will want it even more, and you truly will beg for it, sky child. Because then, you will be completely and unequivocally _addicted _to me." Link's eyes, mouth and chest were wide and fluttering as he listened. "Save yourself weeks, maybe _months_ of strife, and the trouble of a war, sky child, and come away with me."

Ghirahim steadied Link's head with his hand. Happy as could be that the human's liberated hands were not driving him away, he grinned.

"Everyone has their demons," he said slowly. "I will be yours for a long, long time." His long tongue furled in his mouth. "Expect to see me, hear me, feel me, ever present in your thoughts, in your memories, in your desires…" His hand sped up, causing a rather delicious sound to come forth from the human.

"As much as I want your blood to run, your screams to flow, your agony to overcome you, seeing you _turn_ will be far more satisfying."

Overwhelmed by the heated words alone, Link barely noticed that the demon had refined his stroke, caressing him to hardened perfection through his clothing. His body noticed, however, and let him know without delay. He mumbled quietly, surmounted.

"Like yesterday, this is a special day, sky child. Not only am I able to relive times of yore for a few short minutes, but _you_ have the pleasure of living out one of your darkest fantasies." Link was too enthralled to defend his honor any longer. For a moment, his distress over his friends didn't matter. He simply breathed deeply, undulating under the demon's hand, gasping, twisting, melting…

"Mmm," he groaned.

"I think I've triggered you, human," Ghirahim said quietly, his entire body still, save for his arm. "Unfortunately for you, your girlfriend denied you. Just as well. Let's not forget that you denied her once. And it seems only fitting that the one who _started_ this should _finish_ it."

The demon's eyes were filled with an insatiable lust for the past, and perhaps the future, as he brought this hero in green to a crushing state of euphoria. It was beautiful in every sense. The demon had been waiting so very patiently for this. In a way, his diligence had paid off.

"It's been building up for quite some time, hasn't it, human?" Ghirahim leered, no longer holding his power back.

"Drink it in," he said through clenched teeth, stroking his hand up and down. With fervency, he grasped the front of Link's green tunic to stop him from bouncing. "Drink down every last drop of my intoxication. Let it infiltrate every atom. Allow it to pervade every cell. Feels incredible, doesn't it?"

The demon's hands were hot. They practically singed as they filled him with something altogether foreign. Link ached beneath his clothing. It felt tight and uncomfortable. His head was swimming…What the demon was bombarding him with was of unbelievable potency. Now he understood why he had woken up in such a state the previous night. He felt that even if the demon were to stop, his body would spiral higher and higher until he finally lost it…

"Uuuugh," Link groaned, squeezing his eyelids down. The demon was right…

"Something you need, hero?" Ghirahim asked with a generous portion of cheer. Link's eyes opened, but just barely. His view of the bright sky was blocked by the silhouette of a demon as his body was jerked about. Both fists had been buried inside of Ghirahim's scarlet wrap for quite some time.

"You are _guilty_, hero. As guilty as can be." Trying not to listen to the demon's provocative words, Link held him between his knees. His back kept arching up on its own. He felt so close…Close enough that it began to burn, but the demon's dexterity held him there with effortless precision. "Guilty of purposely bringing a meager knife to a sword fight. You're an accessory to murder, _hero_."

_How many times do you have to call me 'hero'…?_ Link thought, groaning. "Goddesses…" he moaned, surprised that he had said it out loud. He certainly didn't mean to.

"Still think a human's propensity to fall to a demon is a myth, hero?"

The strangest part of all was that Ghirahim wasn't actually touching him. Link thought about the prospect of the demon's hand on him. It sent a chill up his spine as he lifted from the ground once more, caught in a strained arc. There was no doubt about it. He wanted _more_.

"How long, human?" the demon asked, purposely bearing down to gain Link's undivided attention. His blue eyes rolled just slightly as the sensation mounted. "How long have you wanted this? Of course, I already _know _the answer, but let's discuss it for the purpose of dramatic emphasis." His eyes shifted mischievously as his hand continued. "In the moments before you stepped out into the spring?" He gave Link a chance to speak, but all he got was a squirm. "No, definitely not. You wanted it long before then. Perhaps it was while we went head-to-head in battle. Maybe the clash of my weapon against yours spurred it on?"

This time, Link tried to talk. But, he was rapidly hushed by the demon's stroke.

"No, it was before that as well. Could it have been the stairwell, sky child? Or maybe the Acheron Woods? Maybe after I saved you from those overexcited bokoblins and drew you to my chest? During one of our discussions? Or maybe it was that infamous _bound and mute_ incident?" With a very heavy sigh, Link gestured 'no'.

"Mm, of course not. The answer is no to all of these things, because your…connection to me, if you will, goes beyond our first meeting." He edged forward, sweeping Link's lips with his own. "When your mind was first graced with the sound of my voice. That's when it all began, sky child. The thick, unbreakable crimson thread of fate that _binds us_ would allow for nothing less. And you will pay an unfathomably heavy price for turning your back on it."

Knowing exactly what the human longed for but was too stubborn to request, Ghirahim prodded, toyed and teased, bringing about the delightful entertainment that was the hero's eager moans. After so long, it was oh so satisfying.

"Aah, I..." Link breathed, his mouth dry.

"What exists between us is a living, breathing entity, sky child," Ghirahim declared excitedly as Link writhed. "Can you see it? Do you feel it? It burgeons, bursting forth like a sapling breaking through the soil. It's growing, stretching up tall, expanding. It's alive, my tragic hero." He chuckled as his adroit fingers tugged at the bulky material which so effectively protected the lower half of Link's body. With a smile, he considered the young man's _honorable_ knight's uniform. With broad eyes, Link twitched, anticipating the next step, panting again.

"Oh, this reminds me, sky child. A point of interest. There was something that you asked of me earlier. In the woods, with the stalhound. Granted, you were overcome by sensation, arguably more so than you are even now. But, you called for it, nonetheless. Remember what it was? What the Goddess' hero asked of the Demon Lord?" Trying ludicrously hard not to make any noise but falling short, Link shook his head. It was all he could manage. "No? Well, I can show you, if you like." His hand ceased its movement. Link's eyes dropped, wondering if it was over. It couldn't be...

"Yes? No?" Ghirahim asked with a smile. His relaxed expression was harshly contrasted by the look of desperation before him. The human was sweating, out of breath, and overflowing with the same telesmatical energy that the demon had imparted to him in Azrael Manor. It would linger with him for hours, no doubt. Giving a devious grin, the demon cocked his head playfully. "Well, perhaps it's the proper time for a _break_."

Just like that, the demon's talented hand was withdrawn and Link was yanked to his feet. Dizzy and half-drunk from overstimulation, his knees quaked. One hand covered his eyes as the other attempted to cover the discomfiting evidence of his arousal. He hunched over, in pain, and cursing again.

"Feeling a bit…cut down to size, hero?" Ghirahim asked with a proud smirk. Dragging his hand down his face, Link glowered up at the demon. "Let's save it for another time, shall we?"

With a hand over his mouth, Link stared at the ground. His hands dropped to his lap as he teetered forward. He leaned onto his knees, shut his eyes and panted.

He stayed that way for a few minutes until he realized that the only noise in the air other than his own heavy breathing was the chirping of birds. Despite the throbbing that permeated his entire lower body, he raised his head to explore the area.

No one.

"Maybe it never happened…" Link grumbled to himself. His reserve clung to the possibility, but his body proved differently. "Oh gods, what just happened…" If anything had occurred, it had started and ended incredibly fast.

Wiping sweat from his brow, he turned to leave the outcrop. He had to leave this place.

Unfortunately, he could barely move. There wasn't nearly enough room in his pants for him at this point. There was just no containing it. He felt like he was going to explode. And it hurt like hell.

"Ah, dammit," he said as his face contorted. "Can't go back like this. I can hardly walk."

Bewildered, he staggered to a nearby patch of trees, leaving the huge stone landmark behind. The sun's luminescence tried to blind him during his miniature, but anguished journey to a darker, more secluded place.

A tightly knit sanctuary of oak trees hailed him from the shadows. With tunnel vision, he stumbled into it, falling to his knees beside an enormous tree. Clutching himself, he doubled over, and waited.

Minutes passed. Then more minutes. Perhaps even an hour. The muscles in his back were beginning to pound from the stress of curling into a tense ball for so long. Similar to the first time, the barrage of pure sensation just wasn't quitting. Only this time, the demon wasn't there to rescue him. Sluggish to acknowledge that something had to be done, Link slowly sat up. Pressing his clenched fists into his thighs, he sat on his heels, stiff and done in.

"I don't wanna do this," Link whined to himself, rocking and squinching his eyes. Still unable to breathe correctly, he practically masticated his knuckles into his skin. The storm of emotion had yet to die down.

Knowing that his body wouldn't rest until it got what it needed, he glanced around, paranoid that the demon was hiding in close proximity. However, he knew that his friends were waiting for him, and that he had to return…even if he was grief-stricken.

With his back to the corner and heated tears in his eyes, he lifted his hand, worked his fingers under the leather and removed his gauntlet. He did the same with the other. Looking up at the sun for a moment, he hoped to the Goddess that no one was around. Preparing himself, he shook his head and took a deep breath…

…..

Feeling heavier than he had before, Link backtracked, but this time, he blazed a trail, no longer caring about the possibility of small, blood-sucking parasites. For what it was worth, he had already braved, and survived, the worst of them all.

Coated in a new layer of sweat, his eyes dripped and his nose ran. He couldn't get what he had just done out of his head.

He had tried so, so hard to think of Midna, but the demon had already laid claim to his thoughts, confiscating and constricting his mind's eye with such indomitable force that all he could think about was him. In a certain sense, that demon had indeed finished what he'd started, domineering him, milking him of every last microscopic bit of pride that still had the futile will to adhere to him. The process was swift, luckily, but degrading as his pent up tension was released in uncontrollable bliss. He was almost positive that the demon was going to pop up unexpectedly, mocking and jeering right at the point where he was helpless to stop his vocalizations. The waves of pleasure far outmatched any experience he'd ever had. Luckily, in the midst of the earth-shattering, heart-wrenching spasms, he had been left to himself.

But, all he saw was the demon, completing the task that Link had yearned for him to.

A fitting end to his first meeting with the demon lord…

He thought about sleep. He daydreamed about his own bed, about normalcy. He needed something, or someone. He needed to recuperate, reorder what his enemy had left in shards…

"Master," came a soft, innocent voice. It staked through the mild, humid air and drilled into his reverie. His feet came to a very sudden stop.

"Oh…my…gods…" Link muttered dismally as his heart dropped into the very pit of his stomach.

Fi. She had been there, subjected to it all. A silent witness to the weakest moment in his life. Devastated, he reached around, placing a gloved hand into his pouch before bringing one of the smaller sword fragments before him.

"Fi…" Link breathed.

"Master, my analysis indicates that you are in dire need of rest, both physical and mental. Your overall well-being depends on it."

"Fi…" he said, holding his palm to his forehead. "I'm so sorry…you had to see such a thing." A long pause imbued the already quiet forest. Link's heart thumped.

"Do not be concerned for me," Fi replied in her usual, objective tone. "I have seen an occurrence such as this in past days." Link's jaw dropped for a moment as a fever-like shudder ran through him. He swallowed uncomfortably, nervously.

"Fi…?" Unable to find the right words, he stared into the glowing metal.

"Perhaps upon arriving in Skyloft, I can share what information I have stored on the matter, Master," Fi explained, her voice the same harmonious sound that he knew so well. He nodded in acceptance.

"I'd like that, Fi," he said. "About what just happened…back there." He winced as his voice broke a bit. "Can I swear you to secrecy?" He bit down on his lip, hard.

"I will keep the matter locked in my memory bank. However, there is no guarantee that others will not discover the truth in time."

"I know, Fi," Link told her, stepping forward through the tall grass. "What does this mean, anyway…Am I no longer worthy of…?" He took a few heavy, uneasy breaths.

"Your unbreakable spirit is still intact, Master. In truth, it has the potential to become stronger, in kind with the Goddess Sword." Turning his head, Link gave a laughing scoff.

"I wish I could believe that, Fi."

"It is factual, Master. You know that I cannot lie." Almost grinning, Link nodded.

"Another vote of confidence that I'm profoundly thankful for. Thanks, Fi."

….

Standing at the edge of the clearing near the temple, Link peeked out, listening for the voices of his friends. After hugging the jagged sword fragment to his chest for the entirety of his trek, he swung his arm around and dropped it into his bag, safe and secure.

Exiting the shelter of the underbrush, Link set foot into the open area. The monstrous Skyview Temple loomed in the distance, outlined by deep blue. A subdued conversation magnetized him. He followed the sound, wiggling his empty fingers edgily, nervous about facing his friends.

Poking his head out from behind a tree, Link spotted them, standing closely as they conversed. Pipit had his arms crossed and his chin down like he usually did, and Midna was standing with her hands behind her back. Figuring it was rude to eavesdrop, Link gulped, heaved in some forest air and approached them.

Pipit spotted him first, with his head low and his eyes up. Following his gaze, Midna turned, immediately perking up when she saw him. Suddenly feeling awkward, Link straightened up, not wanting to give a bad impression.

"The prodigal son, he returns," Pipit said without smiling. He looked away. Midna gave Link a curious expression. Link came to them, his eyes shifting from one companion to the other.

"Hey," Link said to each of them, sounding less than enthused.

"Man, what happened to you?" Pipit asked, eying him slowly.

"Midna knows. Didn't she tell you?" Link asked, looking at her. "After seeing you with _Zelda_," he said, stressing the name, "I just…needed some time..." Pipit looked to the side.

"Yeah…" Pipit said, acting distant. In fact, he couldn't seem to look his friend in the face. Forgetting his own troubles for a moment, Link noted Pipit's odd demeanor.

"Are you okay?" Midna asked, requesting his attention in her own subtle way. Prying his eyes from his withdrawn friend, Link focused on Midna. "You look terrible," she said, shaking her head in disapproval. "You're covered in dirt." Pipit's eyes finally came up. "And where's your hat?" Link broke his gaze with her.

"My hat?" he asked, not looking at either of them. "It must've fallen off."

"Link, even if you stood in the middle of a hurricane your knight's cap would never fall off," Midna said, seeing right through his lie. "It's made to stick to your head no matter what." Link glared, Midna made a 'well?' face, and Pipit looked away. Angry, Link turned from her to look at Pipit.

"How was your chat with Zelda?" Link asked in a voice that was just as flat as it was forceful. Pipit stopped in place as his eyes shifted down. Resentful, Link took a step toward him. "What was the topic of choice? How to make your best friend feel as crappy as possible?"

"Link!" Midna called, drawing his ireful stare. "I just asked you a question…? What happened to you? Where'd you go?" Her jaw dropped. Link had twisted away from her again to hone in on Pipit.

"What's going on, anyway?" Link demanded, his face heating up. With a devastated look on his face, Pipit gaped at nothing.

"_Quit_ antagonizing him," Midna chided, stepping closer. "He did _nothing_ wrong. He tried to tell Zelda that you were here, and that she needed to-"

"Did nothing wrong?" Link asked.

"Yes," Midna defended.

"I suppose 'nothing wrong' translates to him accepting her affections, pretending _he_ was the one to endure endless torment for her?" With her mouth ajar with worry, Midna reached her hand to him. "Don't touch me," he warned gutturally, batting her hand away. With wide eyes, she gawked at him, awed by his abrasive attitude. She watched as he refocused on Pipit once more.

"Well?" Link asked, giving a fierce look. Maintaining an isolated gaze, Pipit shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said, starting to shrug, unsure as to whether he should say or do anything.

"Sorry?" Link asked with his adamant face raised to Pipit's.

"Yeah," Pipit told him. "Look, it's not my fault she likes me…" As his voice quieted, Link took a small step back. Midna stood completely still, amazed that Link was being so irrational, especially over Zelda. Sidetracked, Link failed to notice that his infectious fury had begun to affect her, as well.

Gathered in a tight loop, the three friends looked as though a motion-sensitive bomb was alight at their feet. Pipit glanced at Link out of the corner of his eye, expecting to be clobbered at any moment.

"I really did try and tell her to go see you," Pipit insisted.

"Let's go," Link stated dryly, shoving between his friends and tromping in the direction of the nearest marble bird statue. Not moving, Pipit and Midna looked on as he started to leave them behind. The two exchanged concerned expressions. Guilt tinted Pipit's, while aggravation hued Midna's. They shook their heads, silently agreeing that they couldn't let Link out of their sight.

In pursuit of their friend, the two rushed to catch up with him.

** Thoughts/comments are appreciated.**


	17. Part II: Altogether Separate

**- **Part II -

Chapter 17

Altogether Separate

It was a hushed journey home. The only noise to disturb the air was the flapping of three massive pairs of wings. The determination locked on Link's face proved how eager he was to get back, and to leave the nightmare behind…He leaned down upon his loyal animal companion, communicating silently, with or without knowing it. The feathered animal knew what his master had undergone, its sixth sense alerting him to the drastic change in the human's feel. Noticeable only to a creature as intuitive as a loftwing, Link's shifted demeanor was unvarnished. It made the animal nervous.

It didn't help that traces of magic of one as evil as the demon lord had been deposited throughout Link's body; remnants resided not only on the hands that clutched the bird's shoulders, but in Link's mind, as well. The powerful animal turned a golden eye to his master, seeing the stream of guilt, smelling the scent of regret, and feeling the squeeze of a deep, unidentified longing.

Link considered the amount of time his devoted bird must have been waiting above the cloud rift, resting on a neighboring island, waiting for that call. His devotion almost made Link tear up all over again. To be in the presence of someone who loved him unconditionally, no matter what, was beyond refreshing.

Crimson led the way back to the Main Island of Skyloft. Hematite, Pipit's aptly named bird, trailed several feet behind in Crimson's wind stream. With the leather rein strap in his grip, Pipit kept a low gaze. As he absentmindedly kneaded his bird's back, a mass of silver, downy feathers swallowed his fingers. To his right flew Midna.

If ever there was a majestic loftwing to top all majestic loftwings, Midna's bird would have been that bird. Her feathers were so flawlessly black that she was completely invisible at night; her wing tips were so red that they could easily extract the jealousy from the most faultless of rubies. The creature was absolutely stunning.

"Hematite's a handsome bird," Midna called over the breeze. As lustrous ginger locks floated about her face, Pipit lifted his eyes, roused from his pensiveness.

"Oh…yeah, I always thought so, too," he replied congenially.

"Zelda's bird seems to agree wholeheartedly," Midna noted with a sideways grin. "Judging by her reluctance to let him leave a minute ago." She raised her brow, hoping Pipit's sullen expression would fade.

"Oh, yeah…definitely," Pipit concurred, making no attempt to mask his inability to pay proper attention. "She uh…" His eyes trailed off. "…Azura, I mean, she's had this…thing for Hematite lately…" His voice alternated between audible and practically silent as he fixed his sights on Link.

"Too bad she couldn't come with us. She seemed pretty sad…But she's way too faithful to desert Zelda. And I'm sure she'll continue to track her without any problem."

"Oh, yeah, too faithful," Pipit acknowledged, scratching his scalp beneath his hat. "Way…way too faithful." He took a deep breath, looking flaccid.

"You okay?" Midna asked. Pipit looked ahead, observing his best friend. He seemed to be clinging to his red loftwing with unusual firmity. Hesitating to speak, Pipit shook his head.

"I knew he wasn't gonna be happy with me when he found out," Pipit said softly, "but I didn't expect him to react like _that_."

"I didn't either," Midna said, quickly altering her focus. "He was pretty upset when he walked off, but…" She stopped to give her secluded companion a sympathetic glance. "…But, yes, some of what he said surprised me a little bit."

"I'll say," Pipit remarked, not wanting to be overheard. "He's been pissed at me before. Like, _really_ pissed. But this time's different. I thought he was gonna rip me a new one."

"You don't have anything to feel bad about," Midna reassured him. "You did what you could. Zelda didn't want to see him."

"I know, but…" Pipit said, grimacing as though he was about to be sick, "I still feel so bad I could die."

"Yeah, well," Midna sighed with a nod, "I think we've all got some stuff to discuss."

"To be honest, I think I'd rather play dead in front of a pack of hungry vultures than talk to him about _you-know-who_ right now…"

"You're gonna have to eventually, Pipit. The longer you wait, the worse it's gonna be for both of you." She gave him a stern look.

"Okay, well, I assign _you_ the job of softening him up," Pipit told her. "Take him down a peg for talking to you like he just did. That was no way for a knight to talk to a lady, especially_you_. I know you're not gonna take that crap. Sober him up a bit and then I'll talk to him. If I mention what's going on with me and Zelda before he has a chance to calm down-"

"What _is_ going on with you and Zelda?" Midna asked curiously. With shifty blue eyes, Pipit cleared his throat. He looked at Link again.

"Well…" he started. "I'm, uh…not sure yet. We haven't really been able to talk much." He shrugged, hoping Midna wouldn't prod his guilty conscience for answers.

"Not sure?" she asked, monitoring his restless hands as they wrung the rein strap.

"Nope! Not sure," Pipit said insistently. He gave her an edgy grin.

"She wants to _be_ with you, doesn't she?" Midna asked, lifting both copper eyebrows as Pipit's jaw dropped.

"Well-"

"And you want to be with her, as well," Midna said. Pipit swallowed and looked to the horizon, trying incomprehensibly hard to ward off the deep blush that was trying to creep its way up his face.

"Well, d…I just," he stuttered, staring at Link.

"It's okay, you know," Midna said, leaning inward from atop her ebony henwing. Pipit's face appeared hopelessly bleak.

"How is it okay?" Pipit asked, indirectly admitting the truth. "I can't help but feel like I'm stealing something from him. I mean, there's no way around it. I knew that he hadn't completely let her go yet," he said, looking into Midna's eyes, "but I didn't know to what extent he… liked her, like _that_…" Brooding for several seconds, Midna adjusted her feet on either side of her bird.

"I knew he hadn't let go, too," Midna said with a blank face.

"You did?"

"Of course. It was obvious. The way he'd sound as he talked about her, the way he'd _look_ when he saw her from a distance. Little things like that."

"Doesn't that bother you?" Pipit asked, the wind whipping his dark hair about.

"Well, I knew it from the day that I met him at the party. He would've never reacted the way that he did if he didn't _really_ care for her. It's nothing new."

"Yeah, and she would'a never reacted the way she did if she didn't feel the same way," Pipit noted, shaking his head. "Man, her double-knee-to-the-groin was legendary."

"I'm sure," Midna said.

"He's undergone a lot because of her," Pipit nearly whispered. "I know how he feels about _you_, and I don't wanna make you feel bad, but…I'd never be able to forgive myself if I got in the way of what's meant to be between _them_." Waiting for Midna's refutation, Pipit was surprised to see that her stoic expression stuck.

"You're not the only one," she replied dimly. A bit goggle-eyed, Pipit slowly nodded.

"Well, I'm sure glad I'm not the only one who has to completely strangle out his feelings for the good of another," he said. "But he _is_ my best friend."

"Mine too, at this point," Midna said.

"Even if he possibly wants to be with someone else?"

"Of course," she chimed with a shrug.

"Wow. You're one easygoing girlfriend," Pipit chuckled. "Like the polar opposite of Karane. _That_ woman's-"

"That's the thing, I'm not his girlfriend," she explained.

"Oh, you're not his girlfriend…You just play with his manhood in gardens every once in a while?"

"What?" she squeaked, grinning wryly. They both peered at Link, careful not to raise his suspicions about their conversation.

"What, I'm just saying…" Pipit said, asseverating the innocence of his statement.

"That only happened once," Midna claimed. "Not like we went and did it again."

"Right, so instead you assault him in the hallway before his Wing Contest, almost making him _late _for said _important event_?" Midna gaped at him.

"I did _not_ make him late," she stated.

"Ha, your argument is moot. I stopped you guys before you had the chance to."

"That's right," she told him, cocking her head. "You did stop us. Therefore, you can't accuse me of making him late, because it never happened. But, if we _had_ made it to his room, I would've delivered him straight to the ceremony right afterward; not only on time, but highly satisfied, as well."

"Pssh, well then," Pipit said with a goofy face and snarky head bob.

"And you can't prove otherwise."

"Alright," Pipit said, maintaining his stance. "So those little incidences don't make you his girlfriend. But what about when Zelda disappears, and he has a duty to go find her, and you all are rolling around his dorm room like a couple of-"

"How'd you know about that?" Midna asked, drawing back.

"Everyone in the _building_ knows about that," Pipit said, smirking at her huffiness. "Look, my point is, you guys were exceptionally _cozy_ for a while there, and he isn't the type to give himself away to just anybody. If you guys aren't together_,_ then you could've fooled me. And most likely _all_ of Skyloft." Midna shrugged as a meager grin stretched across her face.

"I dunno. I told him how I felt that night that we went into the village together. I mean, it was a wonderful evening," she said, recalling their fleeting make out session under the stars, "but he wasn't ready. And I wasn't gonna push it. I'm still not going to. I have no desire to overstep any boundaries."

"Well, we wouldn't want that," Pipit declared. "Especially after you guys stomped all boundaries into the ground with all of your little lovers' trysts."

"Pipit…!" Midna scolded, gesturing toward Link with her eyes.

"Hey, I speak the truth."

"This is coming from someone who is habitually less than restrained when it comes to the opposite sex."

"Hey, I'm a victim of my past," Pipit said defensively, with a good bit of sarcasm. "I've been pulled into bondage by the allure of filling my emptiness with women."

"Sure," Midna said sardonically.

"I'll have you know that I've decided to behave myself more," Pipit said with some form of pride. "Not sure how it's gonna pan out, but I guess we'll see."

"Watch out. Too much confidence in yourself leads to bad things."

"That's what I told _him_ before he left," Pipit said, his tone turning grave.

"Well, if you insist on feeling remorseful," Midna said, "do so on _his_ behalf. Not your own. His harsh reaction to you, _and to me, _has more to do with what _he's_ dealing with. It has little to do with us."

"Well, thank you, Sage Midna," Pipit quipped. "But I still feel like hell about it."

Unaware of the secretive exchange of words behind him, and not given to curiosity at the moment, anyway, Link watched intently as the image of his home grew. With each passing minute, his eyes widened, his back became more rigid and his heartbeat sped up. To finally be almost home…To be right on the doorstep of the most beloved place in existence, a place he feared he would never see again…

What an unbelievable contrast Skyloft was to everything he had perceived in the demon realm. Despite having endured most of his journey in the Faron Woods, it felt as though his trip in the infernal realm of demons had not only taken up most of his time away, but that it had lasted an eternity…A time without end. Part of him felt as though he had never left.

He rolled his head from side to side, modifying his position on top of Crimson. Sitting still was proving difficult as his thoughts raced recklessly along. As he rubbed the back of his tense neck, he scowled.

He could still see the demon's face, hear his authoritative voice, feel his invasive hands…

Barraged by confused thoughts, he cracked his knuckles, wiggled his fingers, rubbed his bare head, shook the residual dirt from his boots, brushed off the front of his tunic, and assessed the faint scruff that was beginning to show up on his face; all the while, his friends chatted.

He wasn't sure why, but being in the air, and being away from the surface, left him feeling strange, as if something was amiss. Something outside of himself, something altogether separate was vying for his attention. He shifted again, feeling uneasy, craving something, both in mind and in body.

_"In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king…" _Link heard in his head. Stiffening like a startled deer, he blinked. No…The demon again…

_"You may be something in your pathetic home world, but it is all an illusion. You truly are _nothing_, sky child_." Surprise yielded to antipathy. Would the demon ever leave him alone…?

_"Why don't you tell your girlfriend how you feel?" _ Link mashed his tongue between his teeth.

"About what?" he mumbled harshly through a closed mouth.

_"Must you ask?" _ Link rolled his eyes angrily, trying to will the irksome voice away. "_You want it, sky child." _ He clenched his fists hard enough for his nails to dig into his palms.

"I already told you I don't want anything from you," Link growled, grateful for the strident hiss of the wind. "You're a predator and a manipulator."

_"I think you enjoyed my predacious manipulations." _ Link's mind fell quiet for a moment, but it was nowhere near tranquil. "_Come now, the first step to acknowledging that you have a problem is to -"_

"Just leave me alone."

_"Why? Aren't you enjoying this little game? It's been…_riveting_, has it not?"_

"Not exactly the word I would choose."

_"You may have left, but you have not gone far."_ Link glanced around as the billowing breeze flipped his hair about.

"What does that mean?"

_"It means, be ready to see me again, hero."_

"Oh, I'll see you again," Link grumbled, his eyes agleam with hatred. "As soon as I find out how to kill you."

_"Tsk tsk. Such insolent words spoken to your master."_ Link scoffed heavily.

"…You're crazy."

_"Oh, sky child, the great Demon Lord has already been established as your master, whether you care to admit it or not._ _As soon as you_ _finally relinquished your control to me, the wheels of a thing far more amazing than you could ever have imagined were set in motion."_

"What? Because in my misery I let you take advantage of me? I was upset, I stopped caring…"

_"Oh, no, there's much more to it than that, hero. And you know it."_

"No," Link said, shaking his head. "There's nothing more to it than that. I'm not as weak as you think. I'm not gonna fall for your trickery…Or whatever this power of yours is to tempt me, and make me turn my back on what I really want. You're not gonna win-"

_"I do believe you're placing your troops and weapons in the wrong battle formation, sky child."_

"What?"

_"You're deploying on the wrong battlefield."_

"I'm not-"

_"You're not fighting me, hero."_

"Oh, really?"

_"No. You are fighting _yourself_."_

"That's a bunch of…" Link rumbled, staring at Crimson's back.

"Fidgety much?" Midna asked out of nowhere, causing Link to grab his chest in shock. "Sorry," she said. Link looked away. She tilted her head gently as Crimson met beaks with her pitch black bird. "Garnet wanted to come see Crimson," she continued. "She was getting pretty restless back there. You know how these two are. They're like bosom buddies lately." Refusing to move, Link ignored her. "So, what do you wanna do first, when we get back?"

She got nothing but silence from him as he glared straight ahead.

"Well, if you're short on ideas, I've got a few for you," she told him. His blue eyes turned in her direction. "I think you should visit the campus nurse, possibly the hospital. You really should get checked out after your…ordeal." His eyes barely made it to hers before he looked away again. "And we should eat. I think we're all famished. Those funny looking yellow fruits in the woods don't stick with you for very long." Hoping he would turn toward her, she was given only his profile to look at. At least it was a nice looking profile. "If you can manage to climb high enough in the trees to get to them, that is, or have the aim to knock them down with a rock. Or a stick. Did you end up trying one of those? They're really messy, but pretty good."

"Slingshot's good for that," Link said quietly, his eyes locked in front of him.

"You have a slingshot?" Midna asked, happy that he was finally speaking.

"Mmhmm, got it in the woods," he answered.

"You'll have to show it to me," Midna suggested.

"Sure," Link said softly.

"Link," she said, reaching for his hand. He watched as her palm slid over the back of his tight fist. "Don't worry about earlier. I know you're dealing with a lot, and I'm willing to forget about it if you are." As her thumb slowly swept back and forth across his hand, he grinded his teeth, becoming even stiffer. But, his eyes softened. "I just wanted to let you know it's okay. I was annoyed at first, but…I know that's silly of me."

"No, it's not silly," Link said, fixated on the approaching island. "I shouldn't have said what I said, or disregarded you like I did. It was disrespectful. I'm sorry." His jittery eyes finally came to her, but just for a few seconds.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "Does that mean you're ready to talk to Pipit now?"

"Ha, no," Link replied.

"He really wants to talk to you, Link." At last, he faced her.

"If I talked to him, I have no idea what I'd end up saying," he admitted. "So I'd rather not. Not right now." Sighing, Midna pulled back as Link withdrew his gaze.

"I'm not going straight home," he told her quickly.

"Uh, you're not?" she asked, confused.

"No. I'm stopping in the village first."

"The village? What for?"

"There's someone I wanna see," he said with his eyes low.

"Oh? Who? Is it that Malon girl?" she teased.

"Malon? Why would I make the twenty-minute trip all the way to the North Province to see her?"

"I dunno, you tell me."

"We barely talk anymore," he informed her. "I saw her not that long ago, right before Zelda disappeared. But it was weird. I just felt ill at ease."

"That's 'cause she likes you, stud muffin. And you know she does."

"I suppose…Stud muffin?"

"Well, she needs to get in line, I think," Midna said, giving a little giggle. "But the line…It is _long_." Link shook his head, trying not to grin. "Ha! Is that a _smile_ I see?" He gave her a twisted look, feeling patronized. "I haven't seen you smile even marginally since I first mentioned your birthday present in the spring."

Link's relaxed expression immediately changed as he turned away. A sensation that could only be described as awkwardness mixed with guilt struck him in the gut, and it packed a wallop. The mere mention of being intimate with her right now…And it wasn't only because of what had happened with the demon.

Zelda's words, the words she had spoken to him as they stood in her room two weeks ago, shoved their way into his head…

"_I'm jealous that it's her you desire. And not me."_ Link's throat suddenly felt tight. _"I'm starting to desire you in that way as well…And I want you to desire me in the same way. I want you to look at me the same way that you look at her. I want you to...to respond in the same way when I touch you…"_

_Her eyes were so beautiful that day…_he thought, lifting a hand to tug at his earring.

"_I really feel that time is of the essence, you know? I have this sense of urgency that's just growing inside of me…as if waiting to do or say certain things is going to leave me in a world of regret…"_

_World of regret…_

And when they played their instruments together for the last time, he with his violin and she with her harp, there was something thrilling in the air-

"Something the matter?" Midna asked.

"Huh?" Link replied with a jump as his hand dropped. Her lip curved in wonder.

"I think your head got stuck in the clouds for a minute there, my friend."

"Sorry…keeps happening today."

"Well, don't worry about it. I think you've earned the right to daze."

"'Kay, well…"

"So, did you want us to come with you to the village? Or did you want us to wait at home for you?" she asked.

"Up to you, I don't care either way," he replied dryly.

"Well, I think Pipit and I might be a bit paranoid about letting you out of our sight…" she admitted.

"I'll be fine, Midna, we're home now."

"I'm gonna ask Pipit what he wants to do, then."

"Sure."

"Are you gonna tell us who you're visiting? Or is it gonna remain a mystery 'til we get there?"

"You'll see," he told her. The birds' shadows appeared beneath them on the grass of the Main Island.

…

For Link, passing over the place that he called home was surreal. Everything appeared the same, unchanged, as if he never left. Every landmark and structure was in its place, and intact: the proud Goddess Statue, row after row of residential buildings – including building eleven – the library, the sparring hall, the Bazaar on campus, the pumpkin patches, the sparse scattering of houses that lay separate from the village, caves, streams, waterfalls…

Instructors, students, knights, children, and even remlits bounded about the grounds, busy with early summer activities. Link was sure that the majority of the population must have been preoccupied with the next up-and-coming wing contest: one of a long string of events that took place for the less than lucky students who had not been selected for the first contest.

He could see people pointing to the sky, most likely voicing their amazement about the sudden appearance of Link's rare loftwing. With the only red loftwing, there was simply no blending in.

But his mind had wandered again, providing him with a secluded haven as he soared above the sea of gawkers. He looked toward the westward drop off, a place where he had spent countless hours of his life. Flight classes, maneuver practices and even the contest during the Wing Ceremony had all been spent there.

And what a day that had been; Zelda's final day, _their_ final day together…

Not wishing to fly anymore, and perfectly confident in Midna's ability to keep Link out of trouble, Pipit descended to the large, open landing area. Link and Midna watched as Pipit was enthusiastically greeted by everyone in the vicinity.

"They're all wondering about you," Midna said, looking over to see Link's reaction. Outwardly, he seemed observant, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

And so it went as the pair made their way to the village's North Province. Knowing that he was content with the silence, Midna kept her thoughts to herself. Instead, she looked at him once in a while and smiled, happy to have him home and in one piece, even if his mind seemed fragmented.

Glades, hills, dusty roads and countless farms passed beneath them. Midna sensed a transformation in Link as more and more distance was put between them and the Main Island. His posture became more relaxed for some reason.

With numerous open fields and grasslands to choose from, landing a loftwing in the North Province was never a problem. Targeting an empty paddock within a somewhat isolated dairy farm, Link and Crimson swooped down. Midna and Garnet followed close behind.

With their birds resting contentedly after the long flight, the two humans marched their way to a certain farmhouse.

"Are you gonna share with me what we're doing yet?" Midna asked her determined companion.

"Visiting a girl," Link said.

"A girl?" she asked.

"Yep."

A small timber-framed house, more pragmatic than aesthetic, appeared before them as they walked. Although simplistic, the structure had a warm, welcoming feel to it. Assessing the area for any possible children, Midna placed her bow and quiver against one of the white fences just outside of the house. Walking behind Link, she lifted her hand to an indigo butterfly fluttering about beside her.

After knocking lightly, and assuring Midna that it was permissible to enter, he led the way inside. Taking in her surroundings, she breathed in the rustic smell of wood, felt the heat of a kitchen hearth and admired the many colorful bouquets, made up of wildflowers from a nearby meadow.

As they entered the living area, Midna expected to be greeted by a woman, but was instead met by a stocky, short-statured, brunette man with a short beard, long face and very kind eyes. Sitting comfortably, he held a tiny baby in his arms.

"Link!" he cried. "What a pleasant surprise! Welcome, son. Did you just get back?" Link returned the man's charisma with a weak smile.

"Yeah, I did," he said.

"Any news on Zelda?" the man asked, his eyes beaming brightly.

"She's not here, but she's okay," Link said, watching a nearly visible weight lift from the man. He shook his head in relief.

"So, what happened? Where did she go for so long?" Link ran a hand through his hair, eying the baby.

"Well, we actually don't have a whole lot of time right now. 'Cause we just got back, and all, so-"

"How rude of me! I'm so sorry," he said, looking at Midna. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Rusl." He reached a friendly hand out.

"Midna," she said with a smile.

"So, um, I'm curious as to why two knights have randomly showed up in my humble little abode," Rusl said with a grin. "Did I do something? You guys here to arrest me?" Link and Midna glanced at each other.

"Not that I know of," Midna giggled.

"I know you must have a lot that you want to do now that you're back, Link, so, what's up? Why did you come?" Link looked at the wall for a moment.

"Uli leave you all alone with the little one today?" Link asked.

"She just went into town to do a little shopping," Rusl said with a nod. "Why, would you like to speak with her?"

"Oh, no, just asking," Link told him. "Actually, um, I was wondering if I could hold Myna…" Midna gaped at him, finding his request odd. Rusl stared for a moment before lowering his head to the one-month-old baby girl in his arms.

"Oh, you came all this way to see Myna?" he asked, a bit confused.

"Yeah," Link said, "can I hold her for a minute?" With a vacant expression, Rusl nodded.

"Great, can I take her outside?" Link asked as he scooped her up, claiming her for his own in an instant.

"Uh, yes, if you'd like…" His voice slowly faded as he realized that the young man was already just about outside. Midna was left in Rusl's living room, staring at a stranger. She shrugged.

After leisurely spanning the house, Midna stepped out into the sunshine. She took a few steps, surveying the area from left to right. Finally, she spotted Link, blending into a background of vegetation in his emerald tunic.

In the crook of his left arm laid the tiny head of a baby. She might have been too young to give a genuine smile, but she came pretty close. Link looked into her eyes and talked…and talked, and talked. Just out of earshot, Midna heard nothing but a jumble of mumblings, but she decided against taking another step. She simply watched their one-sided conversation, and waited.

After several minutes, she flopped down in the grass, cross-legged. Playing with the tip of her black knight's cap, she smiled, unsure. Link seemed to be telling the little girl the most interesting of stories as his mouth moved a mile a minute. Her young eyes stuck to him like glue as she squeezed his index finger in her hand. The baby was exceptionally comfortable with him, laying in his arms and listening to his voice. Then again, what girl wouldn't be…?

"What're you doing, you silly boy," Midna whispered, innocently curious, yet morose. As soon as she thought she had Link figured out, he'd throw her for a loop, somehow. She started to smile again, observing a soft Eskimo kiss between the two.

A full twenty minutes had passed by the time Midna saw him climb to his feet. Lifting her face from her hand, she blinked the mild grogginess from her eyes, feeling the stress of the past week.

"Ready to head out?" Link asked, still clinging to the bundle of joy in his hands.

"You bet," Midna answered, glad for the gratified look on Link's face.

After handing Myna back to her father, Link thanked him and turned to leave, promising to return in the near future.

Midna stared at Link's back as she followed him away from the farmhouse and through the trees. She pursed her lips, glancing around. She watched her feet as they retraced the steps that they'd taken along the dirt path between the house and the paddock. She lifted her head to see a high canopy of thick leaves above them. A wooden fence stretched out at their right, while the edge of a forest lined their left. They were alone again…

It was then that she decided she just had to stop him.

"Link," she called, keeping her eyes on him. He stopped abruptly, and she followed suit. He didn't move for a moment.

"Yeah," he said, turning his face to the side.

"Can you wait a second?" she asked. He turned an eye toward her. "Can you…?" She twirled her finger in a circle a few times. He hesitantly turned all the way.

Midna searched his face one more time. Even though he looked better than when she had stumbled across him in the temple, he was a far cry from his old self. The change in him was more obvious now than when they had sat together in the spring. She could tell by looking into his eyes that something had cut him, deeply.

"This probably isn't going to make much sense," she told him as she stepped up to him. "But, you're so…troubled, that I hardly even recognize you anymore." She looked at his chest as he gaped at the top of her head. As she brought her face up, he tensed. "Can I be blunt?" Pausing for a few seconds, Link nodded his disinclined approval.

"I've never seen you like this, and I really don't like it," Midna said. "What could possibly have dashed your confidence like this? You're uneasy…" She wrapped her fingers around his. "Even though you're out of harm's way, and in spite of knowing that Zelda's okay, you're still uneasy." Her shoulders lifted as she sighed. "I know that you don't want to tell me any more right now, so I won't bother asking. But just answer one question for me…" She narrowed her eyes. "Are you okay?"

Link's eyes jumped back and forth between Midna's as different thoughts sped through his mind. He offered her a nod, one full of self-assuredness, but she refused to accept it.

"No," she said with a disapproving headshake. "Truthfully, are you okay? _Really_ okay? In here?" She pointed to her head. "And here?" She placed her palm onto his chest. He took hold of her wrist, feeling its warmth. After running his tongue around his mouth, he took a deep breath. Slowly, he shook his head no.

"I didn't think so," Midna said.

"I _will be_ okay, though, Midna, alright?" Link said, tilting his head toward her. Midna froze, her eyes traveling all over his face. He was practically pleading for her to believe him. She tapered her eyes again, feeling as though he was more concerned with her peace of mind than with himself.

"I'd like to believe that," she said, looking down at their intertwined hands.

"Then please just _do_," Link insisted. The two stood in silence, moving their fingers together.

"It's not just that," Midna breathed. "I'm a little, well, jealous..." She provided him with a short-lived smile. "Will you ever tell me as much as you just told that baby?" With a few heavy blinks, Link leaned back.

"Uh…" he started.

"Well, maybe sometime…at some point. But, what were you saying all that time? Could you share just a little bit with me? Just…anything, no matter how insignificant?" Not responding right away, he almost made Midna believe that he wasn't going to entertain her request.

"I came here to promise her something," Link told her.

"Oh?" Midna asked. "What's that?"

"I promised her that I wouldn't let her die," Link confided. Not expecting such a statement, Midna tightened her grip. Link just stared back, his heavy eyelids demonstrating his languidness.

"I, um…" she began again, feeling perturbed by his answer, "it's also Zelda. I know you're uncertain, and having some doubts…"

"Midna…"

"No, just…let me finish," she said adamantly. He shut his mouth, figuring she deserved to speak what was on her heart, even if it was painful to hear - for both of them. "I think that, at this point, you have more than just a duty to bring Zelda home safely. You've got some soul searching to do, for yourself, and for her…"

Wanting so badly to dismiss her claim as a mere imputation, Link looked upon her with sadness. He knew that she was right. His desire to protect her feelings, although noble, was gravely misguided.

"I know," he confessed. It was all that Midna needed to hear.

"Well, I'd ask, 'Does this mean we're breaking up?', but we were never together in the first place…" The grin on her lips fizzled out.

"I don't really know what to say," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," she said quietly. "This isn't something that can or _should_ be controlled."

"I wish I could," he avowed, sounding regretful.

"Don't feel bad. We'll take it in stride. It's best that we take a step back in light of everything that's going on right now, anyway. And just like a _wise_ person once told you," she said, taking his chin in her hand, "just let it go. If it's meant to be, it will come back. Right?"

Link's gaze fell to her lips. He really wanted to kiss her, to offer her some sort of solace. To do such a thing right now would be hypocritical, though, given the circumstances. Or, at the very least, it wouldn't be gentlemanly. Or so he thought.

"I guess that's it then," he said, just beginning to realize that her soft chest was pressed against him. He looked down.

"Yeah," Midna agreed. She looked down as well, feeling the front of his tunic, happy to have him in front of her. "Think I could get one last farewell kiss?" A grin spread across his face.

"Um, you know what happened the last time you asked for a kiss," Link reminded her, not looking her in the eye.

"Doesn't mean it'll happen again," Midna said.

"Mm, well…" Link began. A kiss certainly sounded good. It would probably be their last one for a while, so…

Their mouths closed in. Their noses brushed as they felt each other's breath. Heads tipped, eyes closed and lips parted.

An image flashed in Link's mind. A grotesque picture of the demon lord, pushing into him with his long, dark tongue.

Link immediately shied away.

"What's the matter?" Midna asked, alarmed.

"Nothing," Link said, his eyes conveying something entirely different. "Maybe we shouldn't…" They held each other for a moment, motionless. Setting a hand on his chest again, she nodded.

The walk back was even more subdued than when they had arrived.

…

"Soooo does anyone else think the spork is, like, the world's most useless invention?"

Link and Midna both stopped, mid-chew, to stare at Pipit. The Friday hustle and bustle of the academy dining hall whirred around them. Link searched the room, amazed that nothing had changed since his departure, but not surprised by it, either. Why should it have changed, even if he had...?

"No, I'm serious," he continued, completely confident in the soundness of his logic. "I mean, look, you can't eat something liquidy like soup with it 'cause it dribbles everywhere." He took a moment to demonstrate as his two friends watched. "And you can barely eat anything solid with it 'cause the prongs aren't long enough to pick anything up. Seriously, whoever designed this thing sure didn't have a mind for the practical."

"Maybe they did it just to mess with you, Pipit," Link suggested, picking at what remained of his lunch.

"Or maybe it's just your purpose in life to either redesign the spork, or totally eradicate it from existence," Midna added, finishing her garden salad. Pipit looked at them both.

"Why don't you storm the kitchen wearing a ski mask and shout, 'Your sporks or your life'," Link added, not grinning in the slightest.

"Yeah, down with subpar dining ware," Midna added.

"It's all just a joke to you guys, huh? Well, I'm serious."

"That's the scariest part of all," Link said, swirling his spoon around in his soup.

"Uh-huh, well," Pipit grumbled, "what other more interesting topics do you ready-witted people have to talk about?"

"How about the way everyone's staring at us like we have three heads?" Midna suggested.

"Well, we do have three heads," Pipit said, taking a bite.

"I mean three heads _each_, Pipit," she said.

"Well, they _are_ glaring at us pretty good," Pipit agreed.

"They're not glaring," Link said, still playing with his food. "They're just curious about the surface, and about Zelda."

"Meh, well, whatever. I'm kind'a tired of being the main spectacle in the room, so, you guys done? I'm probably gonna head home for a bit." Pipit stood up, grabbing his tray, which was now in shambles.

"Yeah. You ready to go?" Midna asked, looking in Link's direction.

"Yep," he answered, letting go of the newly blacklisted eating utensil.

"I wanted to give you your birthday present in your room, if that's okay," Midna said, standing up. Pipit cracked a smile.

"Just keep it down this time, you two, okay?" he said, turning to discard his tray. A look of horror appeared on Link's face. Midna held back a smirk. Wrapping an arm around Link's bicep, she urged him to stand.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Link asked, slightly appalled.

…..

Link's door clicked shut behind him. He glanced around the room, feeling the faintness of the midday light as it came through his window. He breathed in, _very_ deeply, taking in the feel of it. His jaw dropped a bit as he realized that he was able to detect his own scent. It saturated the entire room.

_I've been gone for so long_, he thought. He looked at his bed, yearning to jump into it. But there were two things preventing it: Midna, and his violin.

"Happy to be home?" Midna asked, sitting tall.

"Immensely," Link answered with a long sigh.

"I know you probably wanna rest," she said, "but I wanted to do this for you first. Is that okay?" Link curled a lip and rocked on his toes.

"Uuuuum, is _this_ appropriate for two people who aren't together?" he asked. Midna shook her head and laughed.

"Of course," she said, showcasing her pretty teeth.

"Okay, so…"

"Just sit," Midna said, pointing toward the spare bed beside the cupboard. "You ready?" Keeping an eye on her, Link inched his way to the bed opposite his own. He looked down, tempted to leap into the air and crash back-first into the mattress. It'd been a while since he'd had such an opportunity…

"Ready?" she repeated. Link took a seat.

"Sure," he said with his hands in his lap. When Midna took his violin in her left hand, he raised a dusty-blond eyebrow. She slid the bow into her right.

"What, did you have it cleaned for me?" Link asked, leaning forward. "Did you replace that old A string or something?" She grinned secretively, enjoying the look of his inquisitive eyes.

"You'll see," she teased, her smile growing.

"Maybe you had it engraved?"

"Mmmm, nope, but good guess," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"Polished?" She giggled softly.

"Just listen, silly," she scolded lightheartedly, pressing her chin to the chinrest and placing the bow hair next to the bridge. Link's expression turned downright disordered.

"Um, it's a lot harder than it looks, Midna," he told her with the wryest of grins. He almost scoffed, but just barely stifled it. Enjoying his commentary, Midna kept right on smiling.

"Hush," she said. "You keep talking, you're gonna miss it." Link shook his head. He leaned down, holding his chin in his hands.

"Well this ought'a be good," Link said.

"I hope so," she replied, pulling the bow downward, producing a soft yet harsh noise. Link started to cringe.

"Midna, what're you trying to do?" he asked. "I appreciate the effort…"

"Quiet, you, I'm just warming up," she said.

"If that's the warm up, then I must admit," he said, trying not to sound _too_ snooty, "I think my ears are a little scared."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really," he affirmed. "But, if you insist…"

"Well, I do," she said, just before she began to play.

Within seconds, Link's skeptical face turned utterly awestruck. As he watched her stroke the bow up and down, tilting it and alternating between strings, and moving her fingers along the fingerboard, he realized something-

Midna could play. And she was _good_.

Link just froze, and stared with huge eyes.

The song was something he had never heard before. It was gorgeous, whatever it was; a medium tempo song, full of feeling and emotion. It echoed off of the walls of his dorm.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Link marveled. She seemed to have it all down: harmonics, bowing techniques, the way she plucked the strings with her finger, vibrato… It was all incredible.

Link was shocked. He was amazed, astounded and surprised. He was also grateful for her effort.

But, above all, he was a bit put off. His thunderstruck look turned acidic as he felt the negative feeling start to rise up.

Back and forth she masterfully moved the bow. The notes that poured forth were long and drawn out, telling some sort of story; what the tale was, he wasn't sure.

Finally, her song ended. She looked at him, lifting the bow away and removing her chin from the instrument. The silence following the song was thick.

"Well?" Midna asked.

"Well…?" Link asked, his face in his hands.

"What did you think?" she asked frankly, tipping forward. Link looked away for several seconds. "No words left?" she asked with a half-shrug.

"Nope, no words left," Link said, not looking at her.

"Did you like it?" she asked, trying to tap into his honesty. "Or no? You didn't like it, did you?"

"I didn't say that," Link told her. "It was…really _good_, actually."

"You think so?"

"Definitely. It was just unexpected. I had no idea you could play."

"Well, I kept it a surprise, just for this occasion," Midna said with a bounce. "When you first told me that you played this instrument, I _almost_ told you that _I_ actually played for a number of years when I was younger. I got the idea to play something for you, to surprise you. I was rusty, of course, but practiced while you were away. Well, before I decided to go down to the surface…I hope you don't mind that I used your violin." Link eyed his instrument from top to bottom as it rested against her thigh. He looked her in the face.

"No," he said.

"I wrote it myself," she said. "Well, it was a composition I used to play as a kid that I modified as I practiced. I was going to play the original song, but, I changed it up a bit as I played. Just, went with the flow of it. I like how it turned out…"

"You must've spent a lot of time working on it," Link stated in a monotone voice.

"I did." She nodded, happy to have gained his approval, but finding his true feelings incalculable. She took a breath and turned her gaze away, a bit disappointed.

Link felt bad, as well. He knew her intentions had been good, but her gift left him feeling robbed, somehow.

His violin, and the mastery of it, belonged to _him_, and only him…

He hopped to his feet.

"Well, thanks, Mid," he said as politely as he was able. "Really, it was nice, I appreciate it. A lot." She got up.

"Thanks, I'm glad," she said. "But, um, you probably want to rest, so…" She made her way to the corner and claimed her weapon. Link watched, making no attempt to stop her. "I'll see you later." With that, she turned and left, leaving him alone with his closed door.

"Geez, good going," he said to himself, wondering how in the world it all had happened so fast. He scoffed at himself, feeling a touch callous. "Certainly could have gone better."

He gravitated toward his violin. He had missed it so much. It had always been his answer to life's worriment and misfortune. As a palliation for his woes, it prevented him from coming unhinged. He was impressed by the fact that he had lasted so many days without it.

He put his hand on it, touching the cold, polished wood. A feeling of the old and familiar came over him.

Eagerly, he sat down, bringing his instrument close.

_Gods, it's been too long…_

His fingers wrapped themselves around the fingerboard as the bow came to the strings. Finally…

Shutting his eyes in concentration, he drew the bow down the G string, delighting in the simple, natural movement.

He immediately shuddered and stopped. A _horrible_ sound.

"Maybe it really _has_ been too long..."

Resting his bow on the bed, Link looked at the floor in thought. He brought the bow up, ready to try again.

This time, he drew the bow up, but again, a scratching, strained noise came from the string. Frustrated, he mouthed obscenities.

Dropping his bow, he plucked the strings. They sounded in tune. He bowed down along the E string, but it practically shrieked at him. He hastily but carefully twisted the D string tuning peg before bowing. Suspecting that Midna had messed with the tuning, he experimented, wondering if altering anything would change the sound.

But, nothing worked. Every stroke of his bow sounded just as horrible as the first.

Bewildered by his lack of ability to play the violin which he had mastered long ago, he stopped.

"What's my problem?" he whispered to himself.

Then, a knock on his door made him jump to his feet, ready to fight. His chest puffed out a few times before he realized that he simply had a visitor.

"Uuuugh," he breathed, rubbing his face. Already deciding that it must be Midna, Link shuffled to his door. As it swung inward, however, he was hit with yet another surprise.

Two unfamiliar faces met him at the door. Two soldiers, dressed in army fatigues with matching patrol caps looked down at him. He looked each of them over, feeling as though they might pounce on him. Confused, his brow furrowed.

"Um, yes?" he asked.

"Link?" one of them asked in a needlessly demanding voice.

"Uuuuum, yes?"

"You need to come with us," the other said, his hands clasped rigidly behind his back.

"I what?" Link asked, gaping.

"Gather only what you need for three days," one man stated. "But keep in mind that all basic amenities will be provided."

"Make it quick," the other said, stern and emotionless.

"Wait, what?" Link asked. "Who are you?"

"We're here on orders to bring you to the general."

"…General?"

"Yessir. The general of the army has summoned you."

"Army?" The two soldiers shared a glance.

"Yes. The general of the Skyloftian army." After staring both men in the eye, Link tried to push between them.

"I want to talk to the Headmaster," he told them. One man raised a hand to halt him.

"We've already spoken with him. It's all settled."

"Well I haven't spoken with him yet," Link said, having trouble subduing his annoyance. "What does the general want with me, anyway?"

"He wishes to speak with you," one of the men's voices claimed.

"Well I'm going upstairs," Link said, leaving the impatient soldiers behind.

After flying up the stairs, Link saw that Gaepora's door was already open. Wasting no time, Link entered the office. As soon as he saw not only the Headmaster, but Pipit, standing there, he stopped.

"What's going on?" Link asked, forgetting his usual reverent bow. Fortunately, Gaepora didn't seem interested in formalities.

"It's okay, son, just go with them," he told Link, putting a huge hand on his shoulder. Link looked at Pipit, who looked as confused as he felt.

It was all happening so quickly.

"The general awaits," came a soldier's voice from outside. "Come. We have a one-hour flight. The general is _not_ a patient man." Link turned around and glared before looking back at his friend.

"I'm not going without Pipit," Link concluded. Pipit looked at him for a few seconds, taken aback. "Is that okay?"

They waited as the soldiers deliberated. The two men delivered a rapid answer.

"Yes," they stated simply. Link faced his friend, waiting for his approval. Suddenly on the spot, Pipit nodded.

"It's settled then," one of the men said. "We have to depart. Come along." They gestured toward the exit.

Within minutes, two intolerant soldiers and two befuddled knights made their way outside. Link and Pipit walked along, giving each other looks, ignoring everyone else's puzzled stares, and having no idea what they were doing…


	18. What's in a Name

Chapter 18

What's in a Name

"Still mad at me?"

Blinking indolently, Link was immediately reminded of why he disliked sharing a loftwing with Pipit.

It was impossible to get away from him.

"Pipit, you just asked me that," he said.

"I know, but I was wondering if you'd changed your mind," Pipit said, almost directly into Link's ear.

"A bit," Link told him, facing front again.

The two friends sat quietly for about a minute.

"Still mad at me?"

"Pipit!" Link exclaimed over his shoulder. "Come on…!"

"What? I can't help it."

"Well, start _helping it_," Link said snidely. "Please, just quit asking."

"Well, are you?" Pipit asked. Link gave a sigh.

"A little bit," Link repeated.

"Well, a little bit is better than a bit, or just a flat out _yes_ like you said the time before that." Sighing again, Link shook his head.

"I've never stayed angry with you for very long," Link said with his head turned. "I wouldn't worry…"

"Why'd you ask me to come if you're so ticked off at me?" Pipit asked, attempting to get comfortable on Crimson's back.

"I dunno."

"The hell you don't. Admit it, even if you're pissed, you still enjoy my company. We're like…attached at the hip." The corner of Link's mouth came up a little bit.

"Attached at the hip, Pipit?"

"Yep, who needs women when you've got bromance? Screw 'em."

"When you've got _what_?"

"Dude, check it out," Pipit said, leaning forward. "We might, as they say, _expostulate_ sometimes, but we always bounce back. We're resilient."

"Oh yea?" Link asked, silently laughing about the term 'bromance'.

"Most definitely. We can beat the living crap out of each other, put each other in the hospital, fight over the same woman, get each other in buttloads of trouble, etcetera, etcetera, and, after all that, still remain friends. That's _love_, baby."

"Love, huh?"

"Yep. Just call us 'PipLink'," Pipit said with a flashy smile. Link turned to look at him.

"'PipLink'? What in the world's that supposed to mean?"

"It means we're so close that we're practically the same person."

"Pssssh, well you can't call us 'PipLink' then. That's not how it is. And I highly doubt you could ever manage to swear off women." Link turned again, watching the soldiers in front of them. "And intermeshing our names makes it sound like we're together. So, just, no."

"Well, what if it was 'Linkit'? Would you like it more then?" Link couldn't help but chuckle.

"Good gods, that sounds horrible," he laughed. "I think I'd rather be combined with a female, thanks."

"Okay, well, how about Midna? Is she worthy of being _united_ with you? And get your mind out of the gutter, that's not what I meant."

"Hey, you said it," Link replied.

"Well, 'Linkna' is freakin' atrocious, so how about 'MidLink'?" Peering up, Link thought for a moment.

"Hm, I think I like the sound of that," he said, nodding.

"I dunno, I think it sounds weird," Pipit added, scratching his head.

"What? You're the one who made it up," Link criticized. "Is '_MidPip_' more to your liking?"

"Hey, what're you trying to say?" Pipit asked.

"Or, how about 'Midit'? I think I like that one better." Link nodded approvingly once more.

"What? That's terrible. It's too close to _midget_ or something."

"Pipit, it's _little people_. You know, like Cawlin?" Link scolded.

"Alright, alright. Either way, it's ridiculous sounding. It makes me think of Midna as short, or stumpy, and, I dunno, like…impish or something." Link very nearly burst out laughing.

"_Right_…Midna is anything but short, stumpy and impish. Never in a million years."

"Would you still like her _in that way_ even if she was ugly?" Pipit asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

"Of course," Link replied.

"You didn't even have to _think_ about that," Pipit said, impressed. "That's saying something."

"Meh. Maybe," Link mumbled.

"Whoa. Don't bowl me over with your enthusiasm, now."

"Well, she wasn't too pleased with me before I left," Link admitted. "I didn't even tell her I was going anywhere, come to think of it. That wasn't good."

"You think you're gonna return to a hopping-mad girlfriend, or something?" Pipit asked.

"Who knows? And besides that, she's not my girlfriend."

"Oh, that's right," Pipit said derisively. "She and I already had the conversation on how she can grope you left and right, and _still_ not be your girlfriend."

"Uuuuuuuummm," Link began.

"I was gonna play soccer tonight with the guys," Pipit grumbled, ignoring his friend's discomfiture. "I was supposed to patrol later, too. They're gonna be looking for me. I already put my job on the line once when I disappeared to find _you_. I'll probably get fired."

"The Headmaster knows where you are," Link said. "I wouldn't worry."

"I didn't even get a chance to wash up," Pipit complained. "How the heck am I supposed to clean this nastied up tunic that I've been wearing for like…I don't even wanna say how long…?" Sensing Pipit's annoyed tone from a short distance away, one of the soldiers peeked at him. Leaning over his bird, he looked straight ahead again.

"I'm sure wherever we're going will have a wash basin for laundry," Link assured him, sighing. "And if that's your biggest concern right now, then I envy you, Pipit."

"And why couldn't we have taken separate birds?" Pipit griped, kicking his feet out to the sides. "Seriously. This is stupid. I feel like I'm flying with Karane."

"Anything else?" Link asked, holding his hands out. "You didn't have to come, you know."

"Well, why did you ask me to? You haven't actually told me yet. Does this mean you're done being mad at me? And that you don't wanna gut me anymore?"

"I'd never want to gut you, Pipit," Link scoffed.

"Even if I steal your girl?" Link raised a brow and shifted uncomfortably. "Well, you know what I mean, at least."

"You definitely have a way with words, Pipit."

"Dude, didn't we promise each other a _long_ time ago that we'd never fight over a woman?" Link looked around.

"Uuum, I don't think so," he said.

"Well, we should have!" Pipit exclaimed, drawing the soldier's attention again.

"We're not fighting over anything. I'm just…frustrated about a lot of things," Link said.

"Well, if you're _finally_ gonna be civil about it, we can _finally_ discuss it."

"Civil about it? Am I a caveman or something?"

"I dunno, you tell me," Pipit said. "Pretty sure you were about to unleash your fury on me before we left the surface."

"We'll just talk about it later," Link said. "And you might _feel_ like you're flying with Karane, but as long as you don't grab me like you do to her all the time, we're good."

"I'll try and refrain."

"And I'm pretty sure those guys think we're gonna run away or separate if we both have our own birds. I dunno, I have no desire to contest their weird demands right now."

"The last time we shared a bird, I was coerced into acting as your own personal human respirator," Pipit reminded him. Link grimaced.

"Thank the gods for unconsciousness," Link said firmly.

"Well, at least one of us was out of it," Pipit said. "It cut back on the amount of horrification that was dealt out."

"Oh, I think I made up for it later when I found out," Link assured him.

"Tryin' to say you don't like my mouth on you?" Pipit asked with feigned disappointment. Link glanced behind him.

"Yes, very much. That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Okay, well, next time you _die_ I'll be sure to spare you, then."

"I don't plan on dying any time soon, but thanks anyway," Link said with a head shake.

"Hey, that was the scariest day I've ever lived through," Pipit said candidly. "First, Zelda was gone. Then, next thing we know, you're not breathing. Then, you disappear from the hospital and nobody knows where the hell you went…Where'd you go, anyway?" Link sat silently for a moment, pondering.

"I had to go find something," Link said.

"Find something?" Pipit asked. "Oh, you mean your sword, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's a crazy weapon," Pipit said, his voice rising. Link's eyes shifted. "Where is it, anyway?" Link stopped in place, twisting his fingers into Crimson's feathers.

"Uuuuh," he muttered.

"Don't tell me you lost it," Pipit rattled. "Wait, you didn't even have it with you when we found you, did you?" With his face hidden from his friend, Link's eyes danced around, searching for something other than the truth. "How do you lose a sword, anyway?"

"I didn't lose it," Link replied sternly.

"Okaaaay, well, you certainly didn't have it with you when we came home, soooo-"

"I'll fill you in later, okay?" Link asked, tossing another glance behind him.

"Later?" Pipit asked, shrugging. "What's with all this later stuff? You're well aware of my tragic dearth of this thing called _patience_. I wanna know things _yesterday_."

"I know, Pip," Link said with his head down. "But I really will tell you later. Probably today, alright? There's more to it than just what happened to the sword. And now's not the time." The two eyed the soldiers up ahead.

"Okay, okay, fine," Pipit said acquiescently. Almost succumbing to an urge to grab Link in a choke hold, Pipit quickly decided that his buddy would probably sock him if he did, given the circumstances. "Hey, you remember what I told you about the general, right? That day on Kehia Island?"

"Yep," Link said, his gaze flat with concentration.

"Aren't you worried?" Pipit asked. "Guy's supposed to be a world class jerk."

"The Skyloftian army seems to breed _jerks_," Link mumbled, "as is demonstrated by our present company."

"I think they're just antsy to get back," Pipit said. "Probably looks bad on them if they take too long. They said the guy's impatient."

"Maybe you two are related."

"Perhaps. Sounds like the guy's a sex-fiend, too."

"Oh, _great_," Link groaned, rocking his head back. "As if the world needs more perverts, like _you_."

"What the…? I'm not a pervert, geez. I may be a little on the easy side, but I'm no perv."  
>"Yeah, whatever," Link mumbled.<p>

"Seriously, man, perv is freakin' Count Orlok back on the surface," Pipit said sourly. Link's ears perked a bit, but not in a good way. "If anybody has the power to creep me out, it's _that_ guy. Guy gave me like…indigestion or something."

"Pipit, I don't think I know anyone who's worse with names than you."

"Hey, at least I don't call Midna 'Miranda' anymore."

"True."

"So, what _is_ that guy's name, anyway?" Pipit asked. Link looked to the side.

"Uuuuh," he started. He nearly choked on his own breath. He realized that he'd never spoken his enemy's name out loud before.

Memories of the demon realm began to crowd into him.

"Uh, he didn't tell me," Link said at last.

"Didn't tell you?" Pipit asked. Link just shook his head. "How's that even possible? How long were you, like, with him for?"

"Um, I dunno, half a day, maybe?" Link tried to resist his sudden desire to shrink down and bury his face into his bird. He didn't like where this conversation was going.

"That's it?" Pipit asked, tilting sideways to try and view his friend's face. "Well, what happened while you were with him? Besides him failing to tell you his name?" With frustration beginning to nip at his heels, Link's ears turned red.

"Didn't we agree to discuss this _later_?" Link asked, his irritation simmering.

"Come on," Pipit protested. "You can't tell me anything? Not even just one thing?" Link mumbled through a tightly closed mouth.

"Well, no one can accuse you of not being persistent," Link murmured.

"Damn straight. You gotta share at least _something_."

Link thought, and thought, and thought a bit longer. Everything that popped into his head sounded dreadful. Out of the multitude of options at his disposal, he couldn't seem to find anything that wasn't outrageously embarrassing.

Then, Link thought of the battle in the upper hall.

"We fought," Link told his friend.

"Fought? Like, crossed swords type of thing?"

"Mmhmm."

"Okay, well…how'd you do?"

"Alright at first. Then, not so well."

"So he kicked your ass, then?" Pipit asked.

"I guess you could say that."

"Well, look on the bright side. You appear to be in one piece," Pipit told him, giving his shoulder a shove. "And it's not like you died or anything." For some reason, Link felt like laughing at this statement.

"Yeah, I got that, at least," Link replied, picturing a stake being driven through the demon's head.

"I got kind'a suspicious that something really _bad_ happened to you, 'cause the guy's so, like…touchy-feely, and all. In fact, you still haven't told me. Which, in my opinion, means only one thing." Running his hand down his face, Link felt himself turn even redder. It was impossible to avoid.

"And what's that, Pipit?" Link asked in dismay.

"That the guy raped you." Link's eyes grew wider.

"What? No…" he said.

"I find that hard to believe," Pipit insisted.

"Well, believe it, Pip. It didn't happen."

"Nothing at all?" Pipit asked incredulously. "There's nothing more clear to me in the _whole wide world_ than the fact that that guy's a top-notch freak. He really didn't try anything?" Link didn't respond at first. He bought himself a few precious seconds by taking a very deep breath.

"No," he finally said.

"You lie," Pipit said, anchored in his belief. Rolling his eyes again, Link opted against further elaborations. "I'm dragging you to counseling when we get home."

"Counseling?"

"Yeah. You got that look," Pipit said.

Fed up, Link brought one leg up to sit sideways. He faced his friend head on.

"Pipit?" he said.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up before I knock you off this bird."

"What? Geez, a guy tries to help his buddy…"

"Well thank you for offering, but, that's enough, okay?" Twirling back around, Link hoped that that was the end of Pipit's prying, and _helping_. "I do have a question for you, though."

"Oh, I can't ask questions, but you can?" Pipit asked. "I see how it is."

"Do you think I have a guilt complex?" Link asked, stiffening up. He looked down in anticipation. He heard Pipit chortle behind him. "Hey! What's so funny?" He returned to his previous position to face him.

"No, it's just…" Pipit started to say. His grin died down as he caught sight of his friend's look of dread. "Uuuuh…"

"Just be honest," Link told him.

"Uh, well…Let's just say that if guilt complexes were buildings…" Hearing this, Link's face really dropped. Pipit's expression was somewhere between wry, pained and amused. He cleared his throat. "Then…" Link unwittingly leaned forward. Pipit sat up, not really wanting to say it. "Then yours would…" He started to squirm a little bit as Link's eyes got even bigger. "It would fit a lot of people. Okay?" he finally said, sighing.

Link just sat there and stared. Pipit looked at him strangely.

"Uuuuh, you good?" he asked, about to wave his hand in front of his friend's face.

"Yeah," Link said, turning around.

"Man, honestly, I don't think I know of anyone, or _anything_, that you don't feel at least a little bit guilty about, in one way or another."

"Thanks, Pipit," Link said solemnly.

Pipit went on talking, but Link's mind was elsewhere. He couldn't stop replaying the demon's words in his head, over and over again.

"_Why did you come, sky child? Is it because I was right?"_

Link shook his head. Maybe the demon _was_ right about a lot of things, although Link found himself disinclined to admit it.

And the incident that had happened right before he came back to the sky…

Link swallowed, really, really hard. He didn't know what to think of himself, or of his reaction to what the demon had…done.

He shifted himself around, uncomfortable, finding even the thought of the intimate encounter to be enough to make him feel…

He wasn't sure how he felt, actually. It was an odd emulsion of feelings, one that he was sure had never been defined.

_I need to go to the library,_ Link thought. _I've got some reading to do._

…

"So, what do you think the general of the entire freaking army wants with _you?_" Pipit asked as Crimson followed the two dun-colored loftwings in their descent.

"I think that's the question of the hour, Pipit," Link answered.

The two best friends stared down in awe. The military base of Skyloft stretched out before them in the shape of a huge hexagon. Long rectangular buildings lined the edge of the enormous island, wrapping around it like a giant gauntlet.

Soldiers marched around in droves. Groups of various sizes were scattered about, taking part in what appeared to be drills and training sessions.

Not only was the land booming with activity, but the air was, as well. Soldiers atop their loftwings filled the skies, with most flying in tight, and _perfect_, formations.

Link had no idea just how many men – and women – resided here.

"Man…" Pipit said, looking past Link. "No wonder the army views knights as lazy. Look at them go down there! It's Friday afternoon and they're zipping around like they've actually got _important_ stuff to do. Imagine that...Compare this scene to the one playing out at home right now, and _anybody_ would be appalled."

"Can't say this is how we knight-students start our weekend," Link said in agreement.

"Pretty sure these guys don't get a summer vacation, either," Pipit added.

"Still want to join the army, Pip?" Link asked with a merry glint in his eye. He tossed a playful glance at his friend.

"Hey, I was only thinking about it," Pipit said with a little shrug.

"Oh, yeah, sure. All it took to change your mind was to see _that_."

"I didn't say I changed my mind. I'm still thinking about it."

"Well, if what you want is more discipline, I'd say you came to right place," Link said, studying the island's surface.

"It's something to consider," Pipit said.

"Come about!" called one of the soldiers. Link and Pipit both turned their attention toward the soldiers. "There're strict rules in terms of landing on the base! Keep close!" The brusque man aimed his sights toward the open landing area.

Crimson glided toward the other two birds, keeping within the rigid arrangement.

"I need to shave," Link said, uneasy about his disheveled appearance.

"_You_ need to shave?" Pipit laughed, running his fingers over his face. "I got more than a little five o'clock shadow going on here. I hope you have your razor on you. If I go another three days without shaving, my face is gonna disappear."

"I have it." While Link was glad to have the invaluable object in his possession, he wasn't so glad about the disturbing memories attached to it.

Within minutes, all three birds touched down on the surface. Eager to stand after the long flight, Link and Pipit both slid off of Crimson's left side.

"Welcome to Fort Cielgrenier," a courteous yet firm voice called. The two knights turned to face the one who had spoken: a tall, strawberry blond man in a dark blue uniform, bearing the white symbol of Skyloft on the chest. A small collection of ribbons and medals dressed the top of his shirt on both sides.

The man approached the two friends, holding his hand out.

"You must be Link," he said, honing in on the green-clad young man. His taut face was stuck in a frown. "My name is Captain Gannet. It's a pleasure to meet you." Surprised, Link straightened up before offering his own hand.

_Pretty different from the _last_ captain I met_, Link thought.

"Nice to meet you, sir," Link responded, giving a small, reverential bow. Almost forgetting, Pipit copied Link's gesture of respect.

"Pipit," he said as his hand was met by the captain's. The man nodded politely in his direction.

"Your loftwing is free to rest here, if he so chooses," the man told Link.

"Thank you."

"But you must go quickly. The general has been awaiting your arrival for a long time." Link and Pipit shared a quick glimpse.

"I'd only just gotten home," Link told the man. "How did he even know that I was there? How could he possibly have been waiting for me? No one knew where I was for days…" He stared into the man's dark eyes. "Or so I _assume_." Pipit's eyes shifted to the captain. He thought he saw the man's mouth almost curl into a grin.

"If there is one thing that you are sure to learn about the general," the man said with a small smirk, "it is that he is quite resourceful." He held his hand out to the two soldiers. "As you were."

The soldiers immediately signaled for Link and Pipit to follow them.

After gaining access through the gated entrance, the two knights began perusing the grounds. The first sight that both young men were graced with was a stone statue of the Goddess. The size of a real woman, it held a large, carefully carved feather in its hands; etched into the center was the phrase, '_esprit de corps'._ Pipit promptly removed his hat before walking past it. Link almost lifted his hand, but stopped himself when he realized that there was no need.

At the heels of their guides, they observed their surroundings, simultaneously conversing amongst themselves.

"Wow, look at that," Pipit said, watching a group of twenty female soldiers performing a seemingly never ending string of pushups, perfectly in sync. "That's something you'd never see at home. You couldn't even get the _guys_ to do that. Not without a widespread temper tantrum, at least."

"Sheesh, Pipit, have a little faith in your fellow knights, will ya?" Link reprimanded.

"Well, it'd be misplaced, and you know it," Pipit retorted. "Compared to these people, we really _are_ lazy."

"We work hard, Pipit, and that's the truth. We might not be as regimented as soldiers, but we get the job done."

"How come they don't award knights with all that nice chest candy?" Pipit whined. "I think a little decoration would spiffy up my uniform pretty nicely, wouldn't you say?"

"It's different being a soldier, Pip," Link explained. "To a soldier, recognition means something different than it does for a knight. The army's core values are loyalty, duty, respect, selfless service, honor, integrity and personal courage. But, for knights, it's about the Knight's Code, which isn't quite the same thing."

"I still want pretty things on my uniform," Pipit said adamantly.

"Well, I dunno if you can be both, Pip. Why don't you go find out if you can be a knight in the army…?"

"Ha, maybe I will."

Link and Pipit's quiet discussion was quickly derailed by the extremely loud mouth of an officer who stood before a gathering of thirty young men.

"ALRIGHT YOU DEATH TECHNICIANS. SEEMS TO ME THE '_TALKING OUT OF LINE'_ FAIRY'S DONE PAID ONE TOO MANY OF YOU A VISIT TODAY. SHUT Y'ER DICKTRAPS. DROP AND GIMME FIFTY!"

Link's jaw dropped as Pipit slapped his hand over his mouth to keep from cracking up.

"Holy crap, what the hell was that?" he laughed.

"_Pipit! Shut up!"_ Link whispered harshly.

"Good gods!" Pipit whispered back. "Can you imagine the honorable Sir Eagus tearing into us like that? Damn! Are you sure that 'stripped pride' isn't the eighth virtue of the army?"

"Still think you're cut out for this?" Link asked.

"After witnessing that, I'm gonna have to go with _no_."

The two kept their heads down and their voices low as they made their way from one side of the base to the other. Having left the many echelons of soldiers behind, the small group moved on to the more peaceful side of the island.

Men and women in army fatigues walked around leisurely. Some sat in groups under the trees, relaxing in the shade. Finally able to view them as regular people instead of machines subject to endless drills, Link grinned. Many soldiers gazed back, examining the strange young men in their unfamiliar uniforms; especially the women.

"There's a lot of cute ladies here," Pipit mumbled out of the side of his mouth.

"I knew you were gonna say that," Link said.

The four young men crossed a lush, green field. They followed a long dirt path that led to one of the many buildings at the south side of the base. A gentle breeze brushed past Link's face before he stepped through the doorway, leaving the fresh air behind.

Down several flights of stairs the four men trudged. The stone stairwell was dark, devoid of any light-giving windows. Link looked down, watching his own lightsome steps. An outlandish feeling crept over him as he considered who he was in the presence of.

He didn't know these people. Neither did Pipit. For all he knew, these people could have been deceiving them. Suddenly nervous, Link hoped that the general's agenda was as guileless as the soldiers had made it seem.

With people, and _places_, such as these, you just never knew…

At the base of the stairs, another hallway stretched out. The two friends worked to keep pace with the soldiers.

"They keep this guy under permanent lockdown or something?" Pipit whispered.

"I dunno. He _is_ the army general, Pipit. If he wants to burrow underground, he can do that."

"I guess it's safe down here," Pipit inferred. "Why can't the Headmaster do that? Figures he'd have to pick building eleven to live in."

"Maybe he wants to keep an eye on you," Link said. "You _are_ a bit of a troublemaker, after all."

"Uh huh. I think you're mixing me up with yourself, pal."

"In here," one of the soldiers said as they approached the end of the hall. Two armed guards stood with swords in hand.

"This guy have a price on his head or something?" Pipit asked the men. None of them answered.

"Your bags," one of the guards demanded, giving Link an intimidating look from under the brim of his hat. Dropping his eyes, Link started unfastening his belt.

"Any weapons on you?" the guard asked him.

"Not once I give you this," Link answered, handing over his belongings.

"Any knives tucked away anywhere?" the man asked. Link shook his head as he brought his belt around his waist again.

"Might as well leave that off," the second guard said. Stooping over, Link gave him a look.

"What?"

"Yeah. Save yourself the time," the first guard said, smiling at the second. The other soldiers joined in on the cattish laugh. Annoyed, Link secured his belt in record time.

"Up against the wall," the first guard ordered, gesturing toward it with his chin. Link froze and stared at him.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"Against the wall. You can't go in 'til you do it. _Now_," he demanded. Looking at his friend, Link slowly backed toward the opposing wall.

"Turn," the guard said. Link glanced around, feeling everyone's eyes on him.

"I told you I have no weapons on me," Link said loud and clear, looking each soldier in the eye.

"Turn," the man said more forcefully. With a sigh, Link turned and placed his hands on the wall.

He felt like he was back in the demon realm, being treated like garbage again.

With no hesitation, the guard walked up to Link and patted him down, paying particular attention to the insides of his legs. Link gasped, startled by the snaffling hands.

"Is that really necessary?" Pipit asked, stepping up.

"If he wants to see the general, it is," the second guard stated.

"He doesn't want to see him," Pipit corrected. "The general summoned _him_."

"Whatever," the man snapped.

"Has it gone out of style around here to show some_ manners_?" He proceeded to stare the man down.

"It's alright, Pipit," Link said, allaying the tension. "Is he allowed in too?"

"He wasn't requested, so, no," the first guard replied.

"But we can feel you up anyway, if you want," the second said, guffawing brashly. Judging by the dry, angry expression on Pipit's face, Link surmised that he'd better move things along.

"Pipit, I'll see you after," Link said, purposely interposing his friend's aggravation. "Why don't you just wait outside?"

"One of us will have to keep an eye on him," one soldier declared.

"Why?" Link asked. "Why does he need to be watched?"

"You guys haven't been approved for base access. Not officially, anyway. The general wanted to see you _now_, so yours is a special case."

"Well, let's just get this over with, then," Link said. "So we can leave."

"Uh huh," the soldier said with a raised brow. He pushed through the door.

"You didn't have to do that," one guard whispered to the other.

"I know. I just like screwing with these _knights_," the other answered.

Link stepped across the threshold. As soon as he entered the room he was struck with an unexpected sight.

The room was gigantic, and extremely lavish. Several huge windows, which stretched to the exceptionally high ceiling, let in generous amounts of sunlight. Artwork hung on every available inch of the walls. Link looked down to find a thick, ornate red rug beneath his feet. It was reminiscent of the carpet that ran along the halls and stairs of his dormitory.

Planting their heavy brown boots onto the floor, both soldiers stood at attention. Simultaneously, their right hands came up in a smart, flourishing salute before dropping swiftly to their sides.

Standing to the side, Link felt out of place. Following the soldiers' gaze, Link looked toward the top of the room.

Similar to the Headmaster's office, the room was chock full of potted plants. In addition, it was lined with tall bookshelves which were filled to the brim with literature.

Sitting at a wooden desk in front of the shelves was a man. Link squinted, attempting to catch a glimpse from across the room.

Busy sorting and stacking papers, the man didn't even look up. Link gaped at him, wondering why he couldn't see his entire face.

"Dismissed," the man announced.

"Yessir!" both soldiers shouted, making Link flinch. Without another word, both men exited, shutting the door behind them. Link stood motionless for a moment.

"Aren't you going to curtsy for me?" the man asked without raising his head. Papers continued to shift about on his desk.

"…Sir?" Link asked.

"That _is_ how knights do it, isn't it?" he asked, riffling through a notebook. Link opened his mouth to speak, but wavered. "Well, come on over. Just get your _bow_ over with so we can move on. Don't dither."

Link gawked, confused.

The man's voice was medium-toned, in kind with his skin. The top of is head was wrapped in strips of white linen. His hair was blond; even more blond than his own. In fact, it appeared to be the same pale shade as Zelda's. Strangely, there was something about this man that reminded him of his golden-haired friend…

Much to Link's surprise, the man wasn't all that tall. Although he was seated, Link construed that he couldn't have been any taller than himself. Link had been certain that his beckoner was going to be a large, menacing man. Oddly, he turned out to be neither.

Drawn to compliance, Link walked to the other end of the room. He wiggled his fingers.

"You look like you have some preconceived notions about me," the man called, still not looking up. Link's thoughts whirled in his head. He had no idea what to say or do. "Is that true?"

Upon reaching the desk, Link bowed. He stood before the one who had plucked him from his home almost the moment that he had arrived. Link looked into the man's face. Its lower half was obscured by loose, pallid material which rose from the top of his blue uniform. Link took a second to study the many varieties of ribbons and medals splayed all over the material. Papers continued to slide over the desktop.

Then, the man finally brought his gaze up. Link didn't move as striking, auburn eyes took hold of his.

"Well?" he asked, his voice calm yet intimidating. One eyebrow came up.

"Um," Link began.

"Well, they're true," the man said conclusively before dropping his eyes again.

"They're true?"

"Indeed. Your predetermined ideas. They're all true. Yes, I have the power to take your virginity whether you like it or not. Yes, I am that much of a jerk. Lucky for you, I'm not in the mood." Link's oversized eyes floated to the side. The correct words needed to properly respond to such a shockingly horrendous statement were not going to come to him anytime soon.

"I, uuum…O…kay," he replied.

"Now that we've got that out of the way," the man said composedly, "I'm General Sheik." Shoving a neat pile of papers to the side, he folded his hands and looked at the young knight before him. Link took a while to respond.

"Link," he finally said in return. He shook his head, regretting how dull it sounded.

"Don't you mean '_Sir_' Link?" Sheik asked him. Link couldn't tell if he was being facetious or serious. "You've earned the title, have you not?" He fanned his fingers questioningly.

"Oh, yes, I suppose so," Link replied.

"I'll say you did. I was there three weeks ago when you competed in the annual ceremony. Your performance was impressive." Link nodded.

"Thank you."

"So give yourself your due credit," Sheik said.

"Okay…Sir Link, then," he said, examining the curious cloth over the man's mouth.

"You look like you've got a question," Sheik said.

"Oh, well," Link began, "a couple, actually."

"Well, you've come a long way. I guess you've earned the right. Shoot." Link nodded timidly.

"Uh, is there, um, something…wrong with your, uh…" He pointed to his own face.

"Oh," Sheik said. Link could tell that if the man had been the type to laugh – ever – perhaps he would have indulged in a small chuckle. "Not at all." Lifting his hand, he pulled the fabric from his face.

Link found himself even further amazed by how similar the man looked to Zelda. He could have been her brother. "Actually, I started using a new cologne today. Can you smell it?"

Link looked up for a moment, a bit floored by the abounding uncouthness.

"I, um, no, I don't think so," Link said.

"Well, I love it so much, I smeared it all over my chest this morning," Sheik said. "I can't seem to get enough of it. My nose has been stuck inside my shirt all day. There certainly are some notable advantages to holding supreme power. No one asks questions." Link gaped at the weird almost-grin that was playing at the corner of Sheik's mouth. The man's ability to be so bizarre yet sit there and act as if nothing was amiss left him bewildered. "So, what was your second question?"

Waiting, Link cleared his throat.

"You look a _lot like-"_

_"_Someone you know?" Sheik interrupted. "Man or woman?"_  
><em>

"Woman."

"Well, there's no point in wondering what our kids would look like, then. What's your other question?"

"Um, I was just wondering…if you really view the knight class as…" Link paused, trying to choose his words carefully. "…as inferior to the army."

Once more, Link knew that the man would have laughed had he been given to such a concept. Instead, his shoulders bounced a bit.

"There are a lot of _views_ that I have on the knight class," Sheik answered. "But, for the very worthy sake of finishing this conversation before the surface war begins and ends without us, I'll sum it up in one tidy sentence: a knight, such as yourself, fosters the same skills and abilities as a soldier, yet lacks the discipline. Big time. Oh, I guess that was two sentences." Link nodded again.

"Okay…"

"Which, most likely, was among the topics discussed between yourself and your friend out there as you walked from the base entrance to my office. You undoubtedly noticed the unfathomable differences between the inner workings of this base and those of your academy."

"Um, I guess," Link admitted.

"Hm. Naturally," he said with a partial smirk.

"So, um, speaking of my friend," Link said.

"Yes?"

"Why wasn't he allowed in here?"

"Because what I desire from you are the facts. Not something loosely grounded in the truth, conjured up by you in an attempt to hide your harrowing experiences from your friend. Is that answer good enough for you?" Link's eyes broadened. He wasn't sure if his ears were malfunctioning or not. He simply nodded.

"Wonderful. And what an excellent, and fabulously appropriate segue into the next phase of our conversation," the general said cheerfully. "You, and this little problem called the _demon lord_."

Link's face drained of all color.

_Oh gods, why did I agree to come here?_

"That is precisely why you are here, Sir Link. To share with me what you know, and everything that you saw, and did, in the demon realm."

"You…but, I…everything?" Link stuttered. Sheik sighed nonchalantly.

"I see we have a few pesky walls to break down first," he stated, shaking his head. "Keep in mind that I already know most of what occurred. All I require are the small, minute, seemingly insignificant tidbits of information that only someone _that_ close to the demon lord could have gathered."

"You know what happened?" Link asked quietly. Sheik nodded.

"Yes. And you'll find that the most helpful information will often masquerade as something entirely trivial. So, hence, why I brought you here."

"Oh…"

"But, first, let's break down that bothersome partition known as shyness." Link swallowed down the fear that was starting to form a lump in his throat. "Just relax. Here, have a seat." He held his hand out, bringing Link's attention to a chair. It had been beside him all along.

"Alright," Link replied, sitting down.

"So, you got terrorized, you got abused, you got a little molested, blah blah blah." Link's mouth fell open. "He left you wondering how in the fuck _you_, a man straight as an arrow, could ever enjoy having another man jack him off. Well, let me ease your suffering." Sheik leaned into Link's befuddled face, tempted to tell the young man to use his jaw as a floor duster, seeing as though it was already brushing it.

"He's a demon. You're a human. You're such Goddessdamned easy prey for him that it's almost worth laughing at. _Almost_." He leaned back, crossing his arms as he took in Link's amusing expression. "It has nothing to do with gender. Male, or female, your body reacts the same way. Ha, poor _you_, huh?" Link kept staring. "Life's certainly dealt you a crappy one, to be targeted by one as powerful as him. Oh, but don't waste your time believing that you're the first. Heh, definitely not."

"Is this supposed to help me?" Link asked.

"Mmm, have I embarrassed you? I'm sorry," Sheik said shallowly.

"That's…okay," Link said, fighting back a blazing redness. His toes curled in his shoes.

"Well, it's all part of the process. How can you possibly be fully honest with me if we don't get past these little kinks? Surely you understand the logic in eradicating them right from the get-go."

"Oh, yeah, sure…"

"Which brings me to my next point." Link wriggled in his seat, mentally slapping himself for not running like hell when he was first visited by the soldiers. "Accepting your situation. Overcoming your fears. Surmounting your doubts. There is immense power in _owning_ the name of your enemy. It's an age-old military practice. Say it in your head. Turn it into a mantra. Write poems and sing songs about it. Have you ever spoken the name of your enemy?"

The general gained nothing but silence from the young knight.

"Ah, of course not. If we're ever going to have the discussion that I have been dreaming about for quite some time, then you really must trounce this little scruple."

"I'd really rather not," Link said sternly. "Why does it matter whether I can say his name or not?"

"Hey, I'm on your side, remember?" Sheik asked, lifting his hands. "I want to stop this guy and his even more fucked up master from taking over the world as much as you do." Link blinked a few times.

"I…" he murmured.

"The first leap toward victory is but a tiny little step," Sheik encouraged as he locked eyes with Link. "Come on. Own it. You're not afraid, are you?" Link pulled back a bit.

"What do you know about what I'm afraid of?" he asked, growing angry.

"A lot," Sheik said, jumping to his feet and tilting forward even more. "I know a lot about what you're afraid of. And you'd better get used to listening to me, knight. We will be spending a lot of time together very, very soon. Much cooperation, and many deliberations will be taking place. You can forget about that buxom little fox of yours. Many a cold, lonely night will be spent practically _in each other's arms_. We will be _that_ damn close. You, and _I_, will be acquainted to the _extreme_ before the end, _friend_."

Link couldn't look more stunned if he had tried. He watched as Sheik inched closer.

"Come on. Just once. For _me_," he reasoned, looking at Link's mouth. Link returned the favor.

"Um," he said.

"You'll be surprised how much better you feel when you finally release it from inside. And besides, what did it feel like _for you_ when your enemy spoke _your name_ to you?"

Link realized that the man had a point.

"Probably felt as though he'd taken ownership over yet another part of you," Sheik suggested. "Reverse it. Use that same power to _your_ advantage. Don't let him win." He narrowed his tawny eyes, visibly trying to drag the words out of Link's mouth. "Come now. It's a cogent argument, isn't it, _sky child_?"

Sheik's meager grin was returned with a fierce glower as Link shot to his feet. With the man right in front of him, Link saw that he was actually _taller_ than him. He stared down across the two inches that formed the gap between their heights.

"_Ghirahim_!" Link growled in the general's face. He blinked heavily as a vicious chill practically ravaged his body. He curbed it, however, somehow remaining perfectly still even as his ears were betrayed by his own voice.

"Aah," Sheik said, pleased. "_Now_ we're getting somewhere."


	19. Two Kinds of Perfection

_Recommended readings:_

_*How Zelda Got Her Groove Back* by ZeldaRubix, of course! Because it's a fab multi-chapter fic full of all this crazy stuff like science, because science is crazy, as is the author…_

_*A Royal Rendezvous* by Prejudiced for Pasta. Because it is the hottest, sexiest ZeLink oneshot I've ever read._

Chapter 19

Two Kinds of Perfection

"Well, it's been a pleasure talking with you, Sir Link."

Looking through one of the windows that overlooked the open sky, the general stood with his arms neatly folded. A pert smile curled his mouth as he hid his face from the discomfited knight. He looked down and tapped his foot, almost chuckling.

Link stared at the top of Sheik's desk. It was perfect. Too perfect. There wasn't a single fingerprint on it.

_I'll bet he polishes it fifty times a day_, he snarled inwardly. His reflection was gazing back at him, clear as crystal. There was no denying that his mirror image had seen better days.

To Link's annoyance, he hadn't been able to get the demon lord out of his head since speaking his name. He rapidly began to regret the momentary lapse in self-control. His entire life had been out of character ever since Zelda had begun acting strangely several weeks ago. This fateful shift in his existence had certainly taken its toll, affecting his temperament on occasion…With the demon, Lilith, Pipit, Midna, the soldiers, Sheik…Pretty much everyone he'd encountered recently, not to mention himself.

Thinking back, he still couldn't believe that he'd punched Groose square in the face at the Lumpy Pumpkin a few weeks back. His sarcasm and impatience with people back home, before he'd even left to search for Zelda, had definitely increased. The way he'd gotten so frustrated with Fi during their trek in the woods further validated the point: he had better watch himself.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, taking a peek at the general. It was gratifying to see the man's back; a welcome sight compared to his arrogant face.

A pleasure, indeed…

According to the immaculately shiny desktop, Link's face was fairly red. It looked a little sweaty, too. An understandable state, considering the bout of questioning he'd just undergone. It had been one hell of a third degree. He might as well have been beaten, scourged, and tortured. In fact, he would have preferred it over the general's line of questioning.

This little chat had gone far beyond a violation of civil rights. Fully aware of this gross injustice, Link clammed up. But, the general knew how to make him talk.

'If you don't open those luscious lips of yours and start letting some words out, your buddy is going to learn the meaning of the phrase, 'They grow 'em big in the disciplinary barracks.' So, in the face of blatant power abuse, Link talked.

At first, he offered the bare minimum. Even generalities were almost too painful to speak out loud. There was simply no way for Link to describe his demon realm experiences without have to, in a sense, relive them. This only increased Sheik's enjoyment, of course.

'He treated me like crap,' turned into, 'He smacked me around and verbally abused me.' This statement morphed into, 'He dragged me around on a chain, turned me into his pet, used my own flaws to tear into me, and tried to suck me in with his mind-altering powers.' Still not enough for the general, Link told him, 'He humiliated me in front of entire crowds, used every possible avenue to make me doubt myself and everyone who's important to me, ran me through with my own sword, and forced himself on me numerous times.'

But, the general already knew all of this, which he made plain with each of his discourteous words. He wanted more.

Then came the loaded questions. Prying and embarrassing, the inquiries were piled on, one after another. Already wary of Sheik's overall intent, Link began to consider the possibility that he had been summoned here for the sole purpose of fulfilling the general's dark desire to make an innocent victim suffer.

'I'd rather you just throw me in prison,' Link told him.

'Oh, but how could I do such a thing when your presence is required elsewhere? Who am I to outright ignore the applications of my peers?'

'I don't care.'

'But you _do_ care about your friend. You may be willing to allow yourself to sample the bitter flavor of this army's correctional facility, but certainly not your companion. Heh, bet you're really kicking yourself for inviting him along, eh?'

With little choice, Link complied, not understanding how his answering of such preposterous questions could possibly aid anyone. If Link didn't know any better, he might've suspected that the questioning itself was the main focus, and that, to Sheik, his answers were utterly superfluous.

The conversation was long and dragged out. It felt to Link as though it may never end. But, the tail end of the tête-à-tête eventually presented itself.

'Did you enjoy your time in the demon realm?'

'What sort of a question is _that_?'

'Do you know where the bridge between their realm and ours is located?'

'…No.'

'What did that stone floor feel like under your back as you writhed under the demon's all-consuming power?'

'It was cold.'

'Do you know anything about the demon's master?'

'Mmmm no…'

'Did you speak to anyone besides him?'

'A company commander named Lilith.'

'She shared information with you, correct?'

'Yes.'

'Do you know what her motivations were?'

'No, not really. Though she seemed concerned for her safety.'

'Do you know how the demons reproduce?'

'Yes.'

'Did you sleep with any of the women you encountered?'

'When would I have had time for that?'

'Are you aware of what the enemy's intentions are for the surface and sky realm?'

'I am now.'

'Do you feel that your friends can be trusted?'

'I…well, yes, of course.'

'What is this power that your girlfriend holds?'

'I…don't know.'

'How did it feel to die by your own sword?'

'Wonderful. How else?'

'Did you know that your guide has the ability to communicate with the enemy?'

'Um…yes, she told me.'

'Is she collaborating with him?'

'What?'

'Are you, as well?'

'You're joking…'

'How did it feel to borrow the demon's power to kill that stalhound?'

'Uh…'

'Extraordinary, right? Make you wanna do it again?'

'I-'

'Think you'll ever retry your hand at it?'

'When would I d-'

'Were you intrigued by what the demon told you in the stairwell?'

'What?'

'How many times did he extract information from you?'

'Several.'

'Do you think he knows everything that you know?'

'Probably more.'

'Were you able to read the demon lord's thoughts?'

'Only once.'

'What happened after that?'

'If you know so much, why do I need to say it?'

'How does it feel to cheat on your girlfriend with a demon?'

'…She's not my girlfriend.'

'Oh. Silly me. Was it your lack of emotional control that pushed you over the edge, or merely the fact that you just couldn't wait any longer to have his hands on you?'

'The former.'

'Are you sure about that?'

'Yes.'

'So, you don't feel that you're addicted to his aura?'

'No, I don't.'

'One could argue that you were once addicted to your stringed instrument, correct?'

'…I suppose.'

'It was your answer to stress?'

'Yes.'

'How often did you think about it when in the demon's presence?'

'Um-'

'Your journey in the demon realm was the most stressful situation you've ever been in, am I right?'

'Yeah, I suppose.'

'Yet, you thought about your violin, what…two? Three times, maybe?'

'Uh…'

'Why do you think that is?'

'Well…'

'If I may venture a guess, I'd have to say that the demonic influence, which you've been inundated with on more than one occasion, is responsible. It's supplied your every need for comfort.'

'No…I don't think so.'

'Hmm. Without a doubt. Your mind and body have been afflicted by a metastasis of poison, whether you care to admit it or not. I believe you may prove to be more of a liability than an asset in the fight against the lords of the surface.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Whose side are you on, anyway, _knight_?'

'I'm on Skyloft's side!'

'Does one on Skyloft's side melt like butter in his enemy's hands?'

'The situation was…unique. It was unlike any other…I was…forced into it.'

'Does one who fights for freedom enjoy his enemy's touch?'

'Who says I enjoy it?'

'Does the Goddess's chosen hero allow his enemy to _jerk him off_ as a parting gift?'

It was the final question that did it. Link was done, and his expression made it apparent. According to Sheik's satisfied smile, he was finished, as well.

Sheik had stepped away in order to give Link a few minutes to wallow. During the silence, he admired the distant, misty island of Superna.

"Well, thank you for quenching my thirst for the sound of your voice," Sheik said, breaking straight through the young man's thoughts. "And thirst for it, I did. You matchlessly satisfied my craving for knowledge. My cup overfloweth."

"Much obliged," Link rattled, looking the man over.

"I suppose we're finished here," the general stated contentedly. He examined his well manicured nails. "Are you ready to head off toward your next destination?"

"Since when does answering the call to duty equate to making me recount useless details regarding my horrific deluge?" Link called out, gripping the chair beneath him.

"My, that's quite the question," Sheik replied, admiring his hands. "That must've taken you a while to contrive. Trying to compete with me?" Tired of the general's airy attitude, Link stood up and slapped his palm onto the spotless desktop, leaving a gratifying handprint behind.

"How do you know so much?" he asked. "Whether you have a legitimate reason for knowing my affairs or not, how does forcing me to 'admit the truth' help you at all? Is believing that I enjoy being taken advantage of going to help this military force to defeat the enemy?"

"Hm, your turn, eh?" Performing a quasi-pirouette, Sheik faced his questioner. He stood with his back to the wide open sky. "I really don't like us being at odds." He took a few steps toward Link. "Perhaps we can rectify our relationship."

"We don't have a relationship…" Link muttered, standing up taller. His face softened as Sheik stepped up to him. "…Sir."

"Well, in due time."

"Please…just answer the question," Link said with as much politeness as he could find. The last thing he wanted was to anger the man on the eve of his departure.

"Questions, you mean," Sheik corrected.

"Okay, questions."

"Do you know what a spy is, Sir Link?" the general asked.

"Of course," Link said.

"Mmm, I'm sure you do. Well, there are those residing in the demon realm who just might meet that definition." Link looked away, recalling Lilith's claim that there were humans in her realm.

"So, the people that you've placed there, are they in danger?"

"Only if they're found out. You need not worry. They're experts."

"So, they're the reason you know what happened to me?" Sheik cocked his head.

"Maybe, maybe not," he said with a small shrug.

"Maybe not?" Link asked, dropping his chin.

"I don't share my tactics with just anyone," Sheik replied.

"But you have the right to know my business?"

"Of course." With a low scoff, Link shook his head.

"You may have spies stationed in the demon realm," Link said. "But, unless there are soldiers disguised as trees in the Faron Woods, there's no way you could possibly know what happened before I left."

"You just confirmed it for me," Sheik said casually.

"What?"

"I was merely guessing. Going with my gut. Using my noodle. I had a hunch that something naughty happened before he allowed you to leave." Sheik's eyes traveled from Link's feet to his sheepish face. "The evidence is all over you. I'm sure you're still _feeling_ it." The two men's eyes clashed as the friction between them mounted.

"You know," Link said. "I'd be inclined to think you were the demon lord himself…" He took a small step. "…But you're way too _short_." Rare was the opportunity for Link to glare down at another man, and, in this moment, he took advantage of it.

But, all Sheik did was grin, amused by the way that this young knight's anger was trying to beat down his principles.

"I get off on hostility, you know," Sheik whirred, holding his hands behind his back. He raised a confident face to Link.

"Well, that makes two of us," Link answered, "but not this type of hostility." Sheik gave a tickled huff through his nose.

Then, a chime rang out from the opposite side of the room. Both heads turned to meet the previously unnoticed contraption as it made a raucous on the wall.

"Ah. Do you know what that thing is saying over there? Or are you as time-challenged as they say? Are you really that unable to arrive on time, anywhere?"

"Only in the mornings," Link said gruffly, his whole body stiff.

"Well, that peculiar little gadget is called a clock. And its delightful little song is telling us something." Not even blinking, Link kept his glower intact.

"What's that?" he asked through a rigid mouth.

"That prudentiality calls me elsewhere. Coincidentally, a matter of concernment is vying for you, as well." Link didn't react to the general's words. "Have I left you a bit disconcerted?" He brought his face within inches of the young man's. "I do apologize. It certainly wasn't my intention." Link nudged forward.

"I'm sure," he said dryly. He watched as the general eyed his mouth.

"I guess this is where we part ways," Sheik said.

"Darn," was Link's reply. The pair took another moment to war silently.

"One more time, for me," Sheik teased, running his tongue along his upper lip. "It has such a nice ring to it, especially when you say it."

"No thanks," Link said flatly.

Then, Link flinched and pulled away as the general's hand came up to ruffle his hair.

"What're y-!" In an instant, Link found both of Sheik's hands all over the front of his tunic, yanking, twisting and wringing. He grabbed the man's hands. "What're you doing!"

"They're gonna think I'm losing my touch," Sheik said, his eyes full of mischievousness. Link's jaw dropped.

It fell even more as the thieving hands ripped the belt right off of his waist, jarring his body forward.

"Good gods! What the h-!"

"I'll see you later, Sir Link," Sheik sang devilishly, shoving the belt into Link's hands. Clutching it, he gaped, bewildered.

With a single finger on the young man's shoulder, the general uprooted him from his firm stance. He directed his guest to the exit. With one last push, Link came face to face with a door.

"Farewell, _brave knight_." In one sweeping motion, Sheik opened the door, expelled Link from the room and closed himself in his office.

In the dim hall, Link looked down, running his hands along his wrinkled clothing. He looked like he'd just partaken in a wrestling match. He felt his hair; it was even messier than his outfit. The end of his belt dangled in his face.

"Told you you didn't have to put that back on." Startled, Link looked to his left. One of the general's tall, burly guards looked down at him. "Hope it was good for you."

…

Ascending the many stairs that had led him to the general, Link hooked his bags to his belt and refastened the leather strap around his middle. To mollify himself, he silently counted to ten. Then he mouthed the sequence of numbers. After that, he recited them quietly. Then, he gutteralized them once, twice, three times, loud enough for his escort to hear. The man turned his head as Link worked to stop his anger from getting the better of him. He refused to rejoin his friend until he stopped feeling like a volcano on the verge of erupting.

"Ah…" Link sighed as he entered into the pleasant summer air. Breathing in, he noticed that the sun had descended a significant amount since he had gone inside. Based on what the general's noisy clock had said, it was early evening. Finally able to relax, he noticed a moderate tightening in his stomach. He wondered if dinner had been penciled in to tonight's tight schedule.

He followed the guard back the way that he had come, along the dirt path, and through a patch of trees. Emerging on the other side, Link saw a rather silly sight.

Standing in front of a small crowd of female soldiers was Pipit. Motioning his hands as if he was telling a fascinating story, he had them all enthralled. Chuckling and shaking his head, Link's umbrage began to dissipate. When Pipit performed a smooth back flip – and subsequently gained himself applause – Link really started laughing.

_I can't take him anywhere_, Link thought.

"Do you know where I'm supposed to be going next?" Link asked the guard in front of him.

"You'll have to ask the cadets who picked you up," the man said. Link nodded and smiled as he walked up to his friend.

"Giving these ladies the full complement of trumped up tales?" he whispered over Pipit's shoulder. Pipit tilted his head to look at him.

"They wanted to know if I'm really as acrobatic as I claim," he told him. "It was necessary."

"Ah, I see," Link said, glancing about the group. He inferred that his friend must have gathered up the ten most attractive young women on the base.

"Looks like you've been having a much better time than I," Link said softly.

"Well, I was 'til you stole my thunder. I was the best looking guy on base until _you_ walked up."

"Oh, sorry," Link said. "It doesn't matter anyway, 'cause we're not staying." He looked around, noticing the many eyes that were watching him.

"You were gone for a long frickin' time," Pipit said, turning away from the girls. "What were you guys doing?"

"Nothing of consequence," Link sighed.

"Huh? We came all this way for 'nothing of consequence'?" His friend shrugged.

"I dunno. He asked me here, he asked me what he wanted to ask me, so…I don't know. It seemed pointless to me, but, whatever, I guess."

"Why's your hair look like that?" Pipit asked.

"He decided to style it for me," Link said sarcastically.

"Uuuh…"

"He also thought it was a good idea to screw up my clothes. I guess tidy knight's tunics rub him the wrong way, or something."

"He what? Geez, what's up with you attracting every sicko on the planet?"

"Good question."

"You sure that's all that happened?" Pipit whispered. "That guy's got one hell of a reputation. He wasn't like…doing you on his desk or anything, right?"

"Pipit, if he had reason to carve another notch into his desktop, I'd tell you."

"I dunno," Pipit said. "Keeping secrets seems to be your forte."

"Whatever, Pipit. I'm fine, okay?"

"Uh huh."

"So, where'd those soldiers go, anyway?" Link asked.

"The landing area, I guess," Pipit said. "They said they had to meet someone."

"Does it have to do with us?"

"Pretty sure. They left this guard here to babysit me." He pointed toward the oblivious solder. "Maybe he knows something."

"I doubt it," Link told him. "The other guy doesn't know anything, either."

"Well, maybe that huge guy coming toward us knows something," Pipit said, making a face. The two friends watched and waited as the man, who was six-foot-six and extremely muscular, moseyed up to them. The way in which the man's sleeves weren't being savagely ripped apart by his biceps defied physics. He looked down at the two knights.

"Link?" the soldier asked in the deepest voice either of them had ever heard. They looked at each other.

"Yes?" Link replied.

"Ibis," he said, offering a big, thick hand. Link politely took it. His hand disappeared into a mass of fingers.

"Ibis, huh?" Pipit asked, looking down and trying not to smirk. He stopped in place when he saw a look of impending doom on Link's face. "Good name," he finally said with a nod.

"Got a problem with my name?" the man asked, turning toward the knight in yellow.

"Um," Pipit began, "no. It's just that…" He was cut short by the sight of Link shaking his head and mouthing 'don't do it', but he promptly brushed him off. "It's just that you're as big as a house, and the bird you're named after is…" Link facepalmed. "…Really small…" Pipit gave a little smile. The giant soldier appeared to be grinding his teeth.

"So!" Link called, trying to diffuse the situation. Both of the much taller men looked at him. "Where are we off to?" Diverting the soldier's attention, he inched his way in front of Pipit. Ibis's glower eased along with his posture.

"My base," he told him.

"Where's that?" Link asked.

"Superna. One hour due north of here."

"An hour?" Link and Pipit both asked simultaneously.

"Yep."

"We're already an hour from home," Pipit mumbled.

"And you're about to be much further," the man stated.

"Apparently," Pipit replied.

"Is your general summoning me, as well?" Link asked.

"Yessir," Ibis answered, standing up straighter.

"Well, I think I know what I'll be doing this whole 'trip'," Link said, looking into the sky.

"Is the Supernan army general as much of a perv as this guy?" Pipit asked. The soldier looked slightly taken aback.

"I don't profess to know the general's…dealings," he said, blinking.

"Uh oh," Pipit murmured, looking at Link. "That's not a 'no'."

"Anyone is better than General Sheik," Link uttered. "I can handle it."

"We have to go," Ibis said, starting to turn. "I'm sure you know by now that generals are busy people." He set off for the landing area.

"Ladies," Pipit said to the fawning young women. He dipped at the waist and tipped his hat. Rolling his eyes, Link nodded courteously at them as he jerked Pipit away.

"Think we'll see them again?" Pipit asked, sneaking a peek behind him.

"Perhaps if fate smiles down on you, Pipit."

"Careful, your sarcasm is showing," Pipit quipped.

"Well, good timing, then."

"Hey, tiny!" Pipit called out. Ibis cocked his head. Link flinched. "Any idea if we'll be able to, you know, eat sometime soon?"

"All I know is that I have to get him to the general as fast as possible," the soldier said, sounding annoyed.

"Can we pick up something along the way?" Pipit inquired.

"Pipit…" Link grumbled.

"What? Aren't you starving too?"

"Well, yeah."

"What if they keep dragging us around from one place to another and never let us eat anything?"

"I'm sure they will. If nothing else, I'll ask about it when we get there."

"Besides that, it's gonna be dark soon," Pipit noted. "Unless they want us fumbling around in the dark with overexerted loftwings, they better let us take a break. I'm tired too. It's been days since I slept in an actual bed."

"I know," Link agreed, trying not to drag his feet. "And if you wanna make it to the next base alive, I suggest you quit talking to that guy."

"What? The bigger they are, the harder they fall. You know that."

"Is that any reason to egg on some enormous stranger? You need to shut your mouth."

"Whatever. We're never gonna see this guy after today, anyway." Link shook his head, making a mental note to not take Pipit too seriously.

…..

The flight from Fort Cielgrenier to the Supernan army base was a smooth one. The vermillion sun was beginning to plunge in the western sky, chased by noctilucent clouds. The moon and stars were dazzling. The breeze was cool and invigorating. An undertone of exhilaration hung in the air.

Islets, some big, some small, littered the skies. Just for fun, Link conjectured the location of the invisible borderline between Skyloft and Superna.

"A fortnight later…" Pipit complained.

"It's not that bad, Pip," Link encouraged. "Look on the bright side. At least you got your bird back." Pipit gave Hematite's head a pat.

"Very true," he concurred. "It just feels like we've been flying forever."

"Look at Superna," Link said in wonderment. "Doesn't it look amazing at night, all lit up?"

"That's a lot of lanterns and torches, alright," Pipit said with a nod.

"Way more lit up than Skyloft is."

"Superna's huge. Kind of like its residents…" Pipit pointed to Ibis. "I heard their base is a 'perfectionist camp'. Something they're known for. Should be interesting."

"We haven't been here since we were kids. I barely remember it."

"We haven't been this far from home since we left Ordon." Pipit sank into thought for a moment. "Hey…"

"What?" Link asked.

"Think we're gonna go to Azuria, at all?" Link paused.

"Uuuum, not sure. Maybe."

"If we do, you wanna visit our old town?" Staring blankly ahead, Link bit his lip.

"Oh, I dunno, perhaps," he said.

"Come on, it'd be fun. We can visit my old house, our old school-"

"Let's not make hotel reservations 'til we know we're actually gonna visit, okay?" Link lifted an eyebrow. "And besides that, we haven't been back there since we left. It's been years. Seems sort of awkward to me…And I dunno if…"

"I wonder if some of the same people still live there," Pipit thought aloud, ignoring Link's concerns.

"Oh, probably," Link said quietly.

"Fort Céleste is about a ten minute flight past Main Island!" Ibis hollered over his shoulders. "Almost there!"

"At least Peewee is nicer than those other two jerks," Pipit said.

By the time the three loftwings descended, the sun had slipped fully away. But, its remnants draped the sky in twilight.

The ambiance of the Supernan base was so far from that of Fort Cielgrenier that Link suspected he'd entered a different hemisphere. The people here were actually friendly.

Led through the grounds by a cordial escort, the young men were given a small tour, learning about several historical landmarks. Observing statues and relics behind thick glass, Link soaked up the information. For Pipit, however, it was in one ear and out the other.

For the first time in a while, Link grinned a genuine grin, excited to be experiencing this veritable outdoor museum. He almost felt like he was on vacation, exploring somewhere new. He looked over at Pipit; his one-track mind was undoubtedly hung up on the subject of food.

The grandeur of the building that they were guided through was unrivaled by anything on Skyloft's Main Island. Modeled after a legendary stone castle that was recorded in the sacred texts, it was colossal, complete with a heavy iron portcullis at the front entrance. Link marveled at the fanciful wall tapestries while Pipit complained about his rumbling stomach.

Several long hallways and extensive staircases later, the young men arrived at the general's office. General Ornis was older, with grey-speckled hair and a kind disposition; surprisingly so, considering his position as leader of an army known for its discipline. Preceding their discussion, he seated the young men comfortably. Pipit, however, was placed in an adjacent room. Following protocol, the general opted to speak with Link alone.

The conversation was quick, to the point, and surrogated no ulterior motives or uncomfortable innuendo. The general, unlike Sheik, seemed legitimately interested in learning about the demon realm, and, most importantly, the demon lord. Having tensely anticipated the question regarding intimacy with the enemy, Link was greatly relieved to be dismissed prior to being asked.

The base was a friendly place, but modus operandi still ruled. One of the general's armed guards was ordered to usher the two knights back to the landing area. Vastly pleased with the general's conduct, Link didn't mind. He stepped closer to Pipit's side as they followed the tall soldier. His unwrinkled, dark blue uniform spoke of the perfectionism that Pipit had mentioned earlier.

"So, what's next?" Pipit asked, his tongue nearly hanging from his mouth. "Another hour-long flight to some distant land? I'm dying, here."

"Nope," Link said, smiling.

"What, then?"

"I think you'll be pretty happy with our next stop."

"Yeah? What is it?" Pulling something from his bag, Link hacky sacked it off of his heel and sent it flying over Pipit's head. With a surprised hop, Pipit caught it in his hands. "What's this?"

"Our travel time pay," Link informed him. Pipit checked out the bag's contents.

"Whoa…" he reveled. "The Supernan army sure knows how to treat its guests."

"I think they're grateful for the information," Link guessed.

"So…what's this for, exactly?"

"Well, we have a room reserved for us at a place called Crown Plaza-"

"That awesome hotel in the heart of the city? No way…" Pipit said.

"Yup. It's already paid for, too. This money's just extra, for food and whatnot."

"This is the greatest thing ever," Pipit proclaimed.

"Glad you came?" Link asked.

"Very."

Listening to Pipit voice his eternal gratitude for the short distance between the army base and Superna's Main Island, Link followed the soldier on his honey colored loftwing, admiring from afar the incredible cityscape.

"Gods…" Pipit breathed. "I can't wait to get down there. So much goodness awaits." Link gave him a leery glance.

"Pipit, please don't forget that we're sharing a room tonight…please?"

"Yeah, yeah," Pipit said, waving his hand. Link mumbled something under his breath.

"Keep close," the soldier beside them said. "You all know the rules on night landing, I'm sure."

"Yessir, we do!" Pipit said, completely enthused. Link grumbled again.

The landing area was quite large, but very empty due to the time of day. A night guard greeted the group of three with a smile.

"Ah, you must be Link," the man said. Link took a moment to compare the knight's blue tunic with the soldier's uniform. It was pristine, of course. He gave himself the once over, disappointed by his appearance.

"Yeah, hi," Link said, taking part in about the hundredth handshake that day.

"Have a good flight?" the raven haired knight asked. Link nodded. "Well, I'm sure you guys are eager to get to your room. If you follow the field all the way to the bottom, there's a path through a little grove. Once you get past that, you'll come to a small dirt road. Take a left and follow that 'til you get to the edge of town. You can't miss it. There'll be signs for the Crown Plaza everywhere." He gave the young men a little grin. "Enjoy yourselves, fellas. This place is a lot livelier than Skyloft." This statement only made Pipit's eyes shine even brighter.

As the two friends set off, Link expected Pipit to start laughing maniacally and rubbing his hands together.

"Oh, sweet debauchery," Pipit said to himself.

"No. No debauchery, Pipit," Link reproofed. "We did not come here for _debauchery_."

"I don't mean the bad sort of debauchery," Pipit said, trying not to trip over something in the dark.

"Pip, there's only one kind of debauchery with you. And I swear to the Goddess…"

"Loosen up, man," Pipit said. "I'm not planning on doing anything I wouldn't normally do."

"Oh, well, that's a relief," Link snapped.

"Look, we're two single guys in a brand new city. There's nothing holding us back. This is a golden opportunity if I ever saw one."

"Correction. One of us is single. Not two. Last I checked you were still with Karane."

"You know we're not official," Pipit said.

"But she doesn't, Pipit! That's the point! If all you're gonna do is run around on her, then-"

"I'm planning on breaking up with her. It's bound to happen, anyway…"

"Well, finally."

"I just didn't get the chance to talk to her yet. We left so fast."

"Just try and make it as painless as possible for her, okay?" Link asked.

"Dude, there's no painless with Karane. You know that."

"Yeah, especially when you mention Zelda to her…" Link peered at him out of the corner of his eye. Pipit's pace slowed a little bit.

"Hey, now…" he said. "Don't be presumptuous."

"I call it like I see it, Pipit."

"Who said I'm gonna get with Zelda? I didn't." Link just shrugged. "Look, we got plenty of time later tonight to talk dismal. That's not the aura I want around me when we hit the town tonight, know what I mean? Let's ditch the dreary and embrace the awesome."

"Who said we?" Link asked. "What if I just wanna eat, take a bath and go to sleep? If there's any town-hitting, it might not involve me."

"Nonsense, my friend," Pipit said as they rounded a bend and stepped onto the dirt road. "You're coming with me."

The road was dim and quiet, but a hum could be heard, and a vibration could be felt. So much so that Link knelt down and placed a hand on the road, feeling the city's heartbeat. He looked at the ground, mesmerized, until he realized that Pipit had left him in the dust.

After turning a few corners and leaving the empty hinterlands behind, the two friends learned that the night guard had been right: there really was no missing it.

Huge, elongated iron lamps, aglow with orange flames ran along the roads. The sight reminded Link of the town of Acheron. The memory jabbed him in the stomach. He brought his hands to his mouth, sensing the faint presence of the demon.

"You okay?" Pipit asked, watching him. "Pssh, in a place like this, how can you not be?" With his attention stolen, he looked in front of them. "Check it out…"

Connected to the bottom of the dirt road was the very essence of nightlife. Swarms of people flooded the street. Pipit latched onto Link's arm, urging him to go faster.

"Geez, Pipit, chill out. We'll get there." He got no response as his friend dragged him along.

Stepping out into the busy street, the pair was instantaneously swept up by the flow of the crowd. Two lanes of foot traffic prescribed the walkway: one side ran up, while the other ran down.

"We're blending in pretty nicely," Pipit said, eyeballing every good looking woman who passed by. "Look at all the gorgeous ladies in uniform. Gods, I love that…"

"Calm down, Pipit," Link said. "We just got here." He sighed, determined to ride herd on his misbehaved friend.

"Exactly."

Building after building slid past them as they marched. Some structures were huge, while others were modest, providing the city with a unique skyline. The young men took in every sight, and looked through every window. From each shop, eatery and bar, groups of people came and went.

Link examined the assemblages as they sat on benches, stood in circles and conversed within the buildings. While most wore civilian clothes, many donned knight's tunics, army uniforms and fatigues. The tunics were similar to Skyloft's, but the hues were different. The cut was different, including the collar and trim. Each state certainly had a distinguishable style.

"I don't hear you complaining anymore," Link pointed out.

"How could I complain here?" Pipit asked as he gave a small wave to a young lady who had been admiring him from afar.

"Look, a sign for Crown Plaza," Link said, pointing. "A quarter-mile down that road."

"Nice," Pipit said, half paying attention.

With the contained flames lighting their path through a grid of roads, the two knights weaved through the throng. A quarter of a mile proved to be quite the travail in a thick crowd.

"That's gotta be it!" Pipit called out. An oversized stone building towered over everything in the vicinity. "There seems to be a castle theme going on in this state. Certainly has a novel feel to it."

"Yeah, I know two girls in particular who would appreciate it here," Link said.

"Yeah?"

"Zelda's favorite place to eat back home in the village is modeled after a castle. I think she likes it just 'cause of that. I took Midna there on a date, too."

"That Chateau place, you mean?" Pipit asked.

"Mmmhmm."

"Well, this place blows that one out of the water." Stepping away from the stream of people, Pipit pushed the heavy wooden door of the hotel inward. "Ladies first," he said with an amorous look.

"Thanks…" Link replied.

The building's interior was enough to make the young men's eyes bug out. Every detail was perfect, from the huge stained-glass windows high up on the walls, to the tapestries, to the luxurious, vibrant rugs on the floor. Looking up, they saw a multitier crystalline chandelier. It trumped the one hanging in the Lumpy Pumpkin so effortlessly that it wasn't even funny.

Link couldn't believe how closely the room resembled the splendor of the main halls in each of the two noteworthy places he'd visited in the demon realm: Azrael Manor, and…Ghirahim's residence. Link made an acidic face.

"And this is only the lobby!" Pipit said excitedly. "Come on, let's go find our room!"

"That would include walking to the front desk and asking for our keys," Link reminded him.

"Well, duh, that's what I mean." Brushing past the other guests, they met with the receptionist. She sat behind a large, polished desk, adorned with wildflowers and tucked against the wall near the entrance.

"Evening," she greeted in an overly congenial voice which failed to match her dull expression. "Do you have a reservation?" She looked the two of them over.

"Yeah, someone made it for us, actually," Link informed her. Studying his green tunic, the lady pushed an auburn curl away from her reading glasses.

"Oh, yes," she said, looking down. "I know who you are." Sifting through a pile of papers, she located the necessary information. As she read through it, Pipit and Link looked at each other. "Okay, here we are. One night. Room five-fifteen. Tenth floor, right side of the building. Here's your keys." They landed in Link's hand with a clink. "If you take that big staircase up to the mezzanine…" The friends followed the woman's gaze, spotting the huge set of stairs at the end of the room. "…then just take a right at the top. The doorway on the right-hand wall leads to the stairwell." After observing what the receptionist had described, Link turned back.

"Great, thank you," he said.

"Do you need any bags carried up?" she asked. Link looked at his empty hands.

"Oh, no, actually," he said.

"Don't you have a change of clothes?" she asked, surprised. Link rubbed the back of his neck.

"Oh, well…" he started.

"Oh, it doesn't matter," she said with a grin. "When you get to your room, just leave your clothes outside. The maid will have them washed and dried within an hour." Link looked at Pipit, contemplating the prospect of standing around naked while they waited.

"Ooooookaaaay," Link said. "Thanks…" The pair stepped away.

"Oh!" the woman called, holding her finger up. Link glanced over his shoulder. "I was supposed to give you this note with your keys. Here." She held out a small envelope.

"Oh, thanks," Link told her. He rushed to catch up with Pipit.

"Ready to tackle ten flights of stairs?" Pipit asked.

"That's nothing," Link said. After reaching the mezzanine that overlooked the ground floor, they entered through the doorway on the right.

"Even the stairwells in this place are fancy," Pipit said with a little laugh. "I think these handrails are made of gold, or something."

"Imagine what the room's gonna look like," Link said.

"So, like…we have to wait for the laundry lady to wash our stuff?"

"If we want to be clean tonight. We're filthy, after all. We must look pretty bad if the receptionist is pointing it out…"

"But I'm starving, I wanna go out right away…" Pipit grumbled as he climbed.

"Room service," Link suggested.

"Nah, I wanted to go out."

"Then wait and don't complain."

Reaching the tenth floor, they gazed upward at the coiled, endless stairwell.

"How many floors do you think this place has?" Pipit asked, stepping into the hall. His feet hit a soft, crimson carpet.

"Who knows?" Link tossed a key to his friend. "Come on, room five-fifteen. Let's find it."

"Well, there's five-oh-one, two, three…"

"There it is," Link said, standing in front of the door. He turned the key and pushed.

"Holy crap!" Pipit shouted, nearly mowing his friend over. "This place is freakin' huge! Shit!"

"Pipit, geez," Link said. "I'm sure we have neighbors." Looking around, however, Link had to agree with his friend. The place was big; much bigger than any room he had ever stayed in. Next to the door was the bathroom. Large and lavish, it housed a two-person bathtub and wash basin.

"Hey, we can take a bath together!" Pipit said with a happy shrug.

"Uh huh," Link said. Stepping further in, he spotted a king-sized bed on the left, several sofas and tables lining the walls, and a doorway leading to a balcony. Paintings, lanterns, and flowers, flowers and more flowers were everywhere. One needed only to take a single step to smell a different fragrance.

"Good thing we're not allergic," Link mumbled. He turned his head and sniffed a white rose. It reminded him of Midna.

"Hey, I found your room!" Pipit called. Link followed his friend's voice down a short hallway. At the end was a separate bedroom. It was smaller than the main one, but just as fancy.

"Oh, I get the smaller one, huh?" Link asked, surveying the layout.

"You're a smaller guy. Makes sense," Pipit said.

"Whatever, I guess." They made their way back toward the entrance.

"This is gonna be the greatest bath I've ever taken in my entire life," Pipit said, whipping his clothes off. Link just stood there.

"Modesty is good, Pipit," he said, getting quite the eyeful.

"Think fast!" Pipit yelled. A balled up heap of dirty laundry hit Link in the face. "Leave yours outside, too. I wanna get out of here as soon as physically possible."

"Yeah," Link replied, but Pipit had already disappeared into the bathroom. "Hey, at least give me a towel!" A hand appeared through the doorway and dropped a face cloth. "Um, noooo," Link said. A hand towel immediately followed. "Pipit! Come on!" Finally, a proper towel was tossed out. "_Thanks_."

Making like his companion, Link removed every last bit of clothing. Being naked never felt so good. He wrapped the starkly white towel around his waist before separating his and Pipit's chainmail from their linen shirts.

"'Rusty mail is shame in the form of twenty-four-thousand small metal rings'," Link recited, doing his best impression of his old equipment maintenance instructor.

"Dude, I've never peed in such luxury!"

"That's nice, Pipit," Link said flatly. Throwing two sets of chainmail, boots, pouches and belts into the corner, he placed their tunics, pants, shirts, undergarments and socks – as well as one knight's cap - into the basket by the door. He assumed that was its purpose, anyway. In a few seconds, the clothing was sitting in the hallway.

"I feel bad for the person who has to wash that," Link said, grimacing. "Especially mine. It's got…demon and Sheik all over it." He proceeded to shuffle to the opposite side of the room and fell face first onto the bed. Exhausted, he managed to stay awake for a few short minutes before slipping into a dream.

Naturally, he dreamed about the fiasco that was sure to become their evening.


	20. Secret Gardens

**Warning:**_ This chapter contains (carefully worded) sexual content. Don't know if there's anything triggering or not. Maybe, maybe not, so be forewarned._

_Recommended reading: *The Bane* by Abstract Reality. This GhiraLink fic is different than anything out there, well thought out and so beautifully written._**  
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Chapter 20

Secret Gardens

Pipit sat with his back to the headboard. His arms were resting comfortably on his chest, his feet were crossed, and his eyes were on his friend.

Link's thrashing had been carrying on ever since Pipit had left the bathroom to get dressed. Climbing into his clothes and kicking back, he oversaw Link's restless sleep, wondering what in the world he was dreaming about.

"If that's how you always sleep then it's a damn good thing we got a suite with two bedrooms," Pipit told his unconscious friend. Link shuddered and kneaded his fists into the bed. "I suppose I should wake you up." Pipit fell carefully onto all fours beside him. "At least, before you lose that towel and start rolling around naked. As funny as that would be, I do have my limits." He thought for a moment. "Well, no, it's just 'cause you'd be super pissed at me."

Pipit considered his options: yelling in Link's face, tackling him, pushing him off the bed, tickling him, or, perhaps just waking him up like a normal person. Feeling lazy, he laid on his side next to Link and jarred his shoulder back and forth. Still out of it, Link rolled over, nuzzling against Pipit's chest. Freezing for a second, Pipit started laughing. He dug Link's eyes out from beneath his messy hair, chortling even more. At last, Link came to. All he saw was his friend's face, disturbingly close to his.

"_Hi_," Pipit said.

"Pipit…what's going on?" Link asked dryly, not moving.

"What _isn't_ going on, you mean," Pipit said with a smirk. "First, we got completely wasted and ran around the town criminalizing ourselves with various misdemeanors."

"Oh yeah?" Link asked, wondering why he was practically clutching Pipit's tunic.

"Yup. Then we overthrew the general of the Supernan army. We've got a bunch of soldiers to take back to Skyloft."

"Is that so?"

"Then, we came back here where my partner in crime and I made sweet love into the wee hours of the morn. Thanks for being gentle." Link scoffed and shook his head.

"I see you found my razor."

"Yup, and I suggest you do the same."

"I was planning on it…"

"Can I get a goodbye kiss before you return to your life as a recluse hero?" Pipit asked, puckering up and batting his eyes. Link leaned in, chuckling as Pipit rolled away and tumbled off the bed.

"Hey, I was kidding," Pipit said, jumping up and brushing himself off.

"I know, I'm just scaring you," Link said. "So…" He took note of Pipit's garbed state. "Looks like our laundry's done?"

"Yup. I've got everything on except for chainmail. Forget _that_ crap."

"Well, naturally. How'd the lady do it so fast?"

"Beats me, but for _that_ many rupees a night, she _ought_ to. They probably eat ground up rupees to gain some sort of magical speedy-clothes-drying powers."

"Yes, I'm sure that's what happens."

"Me too."

"Anyways," Link sighed, "I hope you didn't let me sleep too long."

"Man, I wasn't sure if I should wake you up or not."

"Huh? Why?"

"'Cause I couldn't tell if you were having a really _bad_ dream, or a really _good_ one, you know what I mean?" he asked with a suggestive snicker. "I'm no cockblocker." Link stared at him.

"I don't think I want to know what you mean, Pipit," Link said. He got up and headed to the bathroom.

"Hey, hurry up, I'm effin' hungry!" Pipit called out.

"Yeah," Link replied. Pipit reached an arm toward the envelope on the left bedside table.

"Did you read this yet?" Pipit shouted.

"The note? No."

"It says we gotta be ready to go by eight AM tomorrow morning. So much for any sort of sleeping in."

"Can't stay out all night, then."

"Well, it's not gonna stop me," Pipit stated confidently.

"How'd I guess it wouldn't?"

Once a much needed shave and bath was out of the way, Link got dressed sans chainmail, urged impatiently on by Pipit, his own personal cheerleader. Link barely had his belt on when Pipit dragged him down the stairs and out the door. Before he knew it, they were back out into the night once more.

"Oh, the possibilities," Pipit said, making eye contact with a small group of ladies on the sidewalk. "This is a million times better than playing 'survivor man' out in the wilderness."

"Pipit, there's certain things that you really need to keep in mind," Link said as they walked side by side.

"Yeah?" he asked, his eyes glued elsewhere. Working late to transport goods, several men utilized the street, pulling heavily packed hand carts.

"_Yes_, such as our needing to be ready to go early tomorrow. Meaning…Are you listening?"

"Of course," Pipit assured him, smiling about something completely unrelated.

"Pipit!"

"Alright, alright, geez."

"_Meaning,_ no getting hosed. Limit how much you drink tonight."

"Hey, you're my designated flyer, what do I have to worry about?"

"Your designated flyer has no desire to deal with a hung over passenger," Link admonished. "By the morning, you're gonna feel awful, _if_ you drink too much."

"Fine. I won't go all out."

"Also, don't forget where we are. This isn't Skyloft. Pretend like you're in an unfamiliar place, because you _are_." Link's stern look finally drew Pipit's attention. "We don't need to be stirring up foreign waters, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"_And_, I'll take this opportunity to yet again remind you that I am being forced to share a room with you."

"Is it really that bad?" Pipit asked, looking away again.

"So, please bear this in mind as you go about your affairs tonight."

"Okay, okay. Any more rules and regulations, _headmaster_?"

"Well, yes, but that about covers the big ones."

"Man, you are gonna _ruin_ tonight."

"What? For being responsible?"

"Tsssh, yeah, what the hell? Party pooper…"

"Whatever, Pipit. We're not here to-"

"To act like total morons, I know. Fine, we'll save it for when we're at home."

"Good. At least then I can drag you back to your dorm with ease-"

"_Look_!" Pipit shouted, pointing. "I found where we're eating tonight!" Link followed Pipit's outstretched arm to a large sign.

"The Complex?" he asked, looking the two-story building over. "What's so great about this place?"

"Well, if it is what I _suspect_ it is, I'll show you what's so great about it."

"Okaaaay," Link said, going unwillingly along.

"You'll see." A revolving glass door received the two knights with open arms.

Like every other location in the city, the structure was bursting with people, out and about, enjoying Friday night. Solitary or in groups, customers occupied every corner. Looking past the entrance hall, Link found the bar. It was long, running from one side of the building to the other. Almost every stool was filled.

"So, what's so great about this place again?" Link inquired over the din.

"Watch and observe," Pipit explained, shifting his buddy to the right. "Down _there_ is the club. See the dance floor?"

"Oh, you mean that wooden thing I won't be caught dead on with you around? Yes, I see it."

"Whatever, I'm not interested in that just yet anyway." Pipit aimed him to the left and led him forward several steps. "And down there…" He waited until they were close enough to see. Link almost did a double-take as he laid his eyes on the activity going on in the next room.

"…Is the restaurant-slash-strip-joint." In the dim light, Link saw a bit more _woman_ than he was planning on.

"Pipit, I didn't wanna visit a strip club, for goodness sake. Can't we eat at the bar? Or, better yet, just _leave_?"

"Heck no. This is one of those places that Superna is known for. It combines all the best things into one convenient stop!"

"I knew I should've insisted on room service," Link muttered as he was shoved ahead.

Once inside the massive room, the first sound that Link noticed was classical music. It most certainly failed to go with the lewd performance that was snaking its way across the northern end of the room.

"Pipit…" Link sighed, shaking his head.

"Look, just sit down or something," Pipit suggested, pointing to a nearby row of booths along a wall. "It's far enough away from the 'shameful display of putanism' that you'd hardly see it. Just sit down and order something for us. I'm going over _here_. Back in a few." As Pipit skipped happily away, Link was left wondering why he'd ever asked him along in the first place.

"Well, what do you want?" Link called to him.

"I dunno, just get me something the size of my head and I'm good!" And with those eloquent words, Pipit disappeared into the crowd. Link glanced around, feeling strangely alone in the crowded room.

"Okay then," he said as he slipped into the cushioned booth. At least it was comfortable, secluded, and skillfully separated from the surrounding booths by wooden panels. He played with the cloth napkin in front of him, musing over the subject of whether Midna's dance expertise included the style of 'exotic' or not. His gaze shifted thoughtfully.

"Evening," a tall blonde lady said. In one hand was a notepad. In the other was a feather quill pen. Under her arm was a menu. She peered down at Link with an arid look. Her barely there, skin-tight dress struggled to cover her lower half.

"Do they let you guys wear _clothes_ here?" Link asked, resting his head in his hand. The woman's expression didn't change. He cleared his throat.

"You know what you want?" she asked, tapping her foot.

"Do you have anything that resembles a human head?" Link asked. The waitress completely stopped in place, but her face kept the same parched expression. Link considered this a challenge. "My friend's actually a cannibal. His shaky hands give him away every time." He gave her a little demonstration.

"You want a drink?" she asked.

"I'll just have water, but if I don't get a beer for my friend he might have a massive-scale conniption."

"What kind? There's about two-dozen."

"Um, something of the liquid variety?" He started to grin, but opted not to as he accepted that his humor was falling on deaf ears. "Well, why don't you just bring whatever's most popular. Hopefully that would suffice. _Please_."

"Sure." She handed Link the menu.

"Just don't bring the most expensive drink expecting a bigger tip," Link advised. "My friend's got the money and he gives crappy gratuity, no matter what."

"I'll keep that in mind," the woman drawled. "I'll be back in a minute." As she turned to leave, Link unfolded his menu.

"Link, you charmer…" he mumbled to himself.

"What'd I miss?" Pipit asked out of nowhere before taking a seat.

"Only the most monotone waitress in the world."

"Dude, you've gotta go up there," Pipit insisted.

"_Dude_, no," Link said, studying the menu.

"I'm serious. It's freakin' amazing."

"I'm sure."

"There's a lot of girls up there who aren't strippers, you know."

"So?" Link asked, lifting his eyes.

"_So_, you've got that look."

"What _look_? You said that when you were babbling in my ear during our flight."

"That look that says, 'I am Link and I need some'."

"Pipit, you're just full of 'em today, aren't you?"

"Why not go for it? There's a _ton_ of gorgeous ladies here. Go take your pick. I'm sure one of 'em would be willing to offer you some _favors_."

"Yeah, 'cause that's what I'm all about," Link said sarcastically. "And if they all treat me like our server just did, then I don't stand a chance, anyway."

"Maybe they just don't like short guys," Pipit said, shrugging. "Most of the girls here are pretty tall."

"Short?" Link asked, making a face. "I'm not _that_ short…"

"Not that short, ha," Pipit laughed. "Man, even your girlfriend's taller than you." Link's eyes expanded.

"What?" he asked, dropping the menu. Pipit immediately claimed it for his own. "Midna's not taller than me. We're the same height…"

"Keep dreaming. She's a good half-inch taller than you."

"That's not true," Link said, genuinely offended.

"Yeah right, pal. Look, it's not your fault that you're vertically challenged." At a loss for words, Link glowered at him. "You're lucky she likes short guys," Pipit told him, still going over the list of choices. "Maybe it fulfills some sort of fantasy for her. Maybe she feels like she can subdue you easier if you're smaller."

"I'm not _smaller_," Link snapped. "Especially not in terms of musculature."

"Okay, fine, you have a bigger frame than her," Pipit admitted. "But you are a little shorter."

"What th-" Link gnarled.

"What? Aren't you used to it by now? Everyone's taller than you."

_Hmm, not everyone,_ Link thought with a grin.

"Make a decision yet?" The two friends looked up at the waitress. After handing Link a meager cup of water and glaring at him, she switched her gaze to Pipit and placed a large glass down on the table. "Hi," she said with a chipper tone. Then, she smiled. Link's mouth fell open. Pipit smiled back, admiring the liberal amount of amber colored liquid before him.

"Wow, I like you already," he said.

"Know what you want?" she asked, readying her writing utensil.

"Um, actually…_Skye_," Pipit said, focusing on her nametag. "Lovely name, by the way."

"Thanks!" she said cheerfully. Link shook his head.

"Maybe you can help us out. You got anything with pumpkin in it?"

"…Pumpkin?" she asked, confused.

"Yeah. I don't think I've eaten a meal without some sort of pumpkin in it since moving to Skyloft."

"Oh, Skyloft, that explains it," Skye said definitively. "Um, I think we might have something that isn't listed on the menu. Some sort of…pumpkin biscuit appetizer…thing."

"Okay, we'll have an order of your very best pumpkin appetizer things," Pipit told her. She scratched it down. "How about these 'two-person broiled chicken burgers', they any good?"

"They're _huge_," she replied, nodding.

"Sweet, that's all I need to hear. We'll take three of 'em."

"Sure, they'll be out in about ten minutes."

"I'll be needing another one of these in a few, too," Pipit said, raising his glass.

"Not a problem," the waitress said before speed-walking away. Pipit grinned at his friend before taking a drink.

"Thanks for _ordering for me, Pipit_," Link said, even more frustrated. "Amazing how you knew _exactly_ what I wanted without even asking."

"Yeah, uncanny, isn't it?" Pipit downed three-quarters of his drink. "Let's go join the rest of Superna on _that_ side of the room while we wait for our order. What do you say?"

"I say n-" But, Link was already halfway across the room. Not wishing to sit alone all night, his resolve took a back seat.

As Pipit caroused with every 'dame' in the place, Link stood aloof with eyes averted. Pipit had enough night-life-spiritedness for the both of them, anyway.

Showered with attention, Pipit was a lost cause. The only force strong enough to drag him away was the delivery of their meals, which he promptly dashed for.

Amidst the alien atmosphere of the gentleman's club, the two ate together. Hungrier than he normally would be, Link finished everything on his plate. With ease, Pipit polished off twice as much, _and_ the biscuits. Plus three drinks.

"Don't look at me like that," Pipit said, patting his stomach. "I told you I was starving."

"I'm thinking you just ate enough for seven people, Pip."

"Hey, just 'cause you eat like a bird-"

"I do _not_ eat like a bird," Link said defensively. "You got any more insults for me tonight? I'm pretty sure there's a few in existence that you haven't used yet."

"I speak the truth, not insults, you know _that_," Pipit said, standing up and dropping a sizable pile of rupees on the table.

"Now where are you going?" Link asked. He leaned his chin on his hand as Pipit tromped away.

"Over there to talk to somebody I've been watching since we got here."

"Ah, okay," Link said tiredly. He tapered his eyes as his friend waltzed self-assuredly up to an unsuspecting, petite young knight with curly dark hair. The girl, busy chatting with a friend, looked up at the approaching stranger.

"I'm here to arrest your smile," Link heard Pipit say with a dead-serious tone. The girl stiffened.

"Why?" she asked, glancing at her friend.

"Because it's a killer," he said, staring her in the eye. After several seconds of silence, the girls giggled, shaking their heads at each other.

"Pipit, gods…" Link said sourly. Stupidly enough, the horrid pick-up line was well received. "You've gotta be kidding me…" He got to his feet. When he was finished silently ridiculing his friend, he looked over his shoulder.

There, sitting in an adjacent booth, was a young woman. This one, however, was different than the others roaming about the room. This particular girl was understated. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. She wore a plain blue dress and black reading glasses. She was accompanied by the thickest book that Link had ever seen. She even had a quill tucked behind her ear. Link grinned, believing he had just struck gold. He walked discretely up to her.

"Hi," he said, holding his hands behind his back. The girl pulled back nervously.

"Oh!" she squeaked, pulling a hand to her chest.

"Sorry…" Link said, taking another step. "I didn't mean to scare you." The girl took a breath and started to blush.

"No, umm…" she spluttered, dropping her face to her book. "It's just, uh…guys don't usually talk to me much. Well, I mean they do, it's just that…well, not that often. Especially _here_, so…" Trying not to grin too much, Link nodded.

"Can I sit down?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, sure…sorry." He slowly inched his way into the seat opposite the young lady. He folded his hands.

"I saw your book," Link began, "and I was wondering what you were reading." The girl's mouth fell open in surprise.

"Oh, well, it's a textbook. I'm taking a summer course on botany, so…"

"Summer course?" Link asked. "You guys have school in the summer?"

"…Uh, yeah…" she replied awkwardly.

"Wow, that speaks multitudes of Skyloft. Well, about how unmotivated we are in the warmer months, anyway." He gave a half-shrug.

"You're from Skyloft?" she asked, sitting up.

"Yeah. I came here to see somebody."

"Oh…" The young lady looked away.

"Anyway, um…" Link started again. "Honestly, you look like the only normal person in the room." Link was enjoying her bookish yet cute demeanor. A smart girl was an attractive girl. Her soft, intelligent eyes were pleasant to look into, as well.

"I do?" the girl laughed.

"Yes."

"Actually, I'm sort of astonished you're not over _there_ with every other guy in the room."

"Oh, not my thing," Link said. "I came with a friend, who's obviously disappeared…"

"Oh, okay. Yeah, I'm here with a friend too. He's also disappeared, but I know exactly where he is."

"Hm, I know the feeling." The smile that was advertised all over Link's face finally broke through the young lady's unbendable reserve. She smiled back.

"Well, um, I'm Cirra," she said, chewing her lip.

"Cirra? That's nice. I'm Link."

"Ah, that's nice too," she replied, shifting her eyes.

"I don't usually walk up to girls like this," Link said. "I must be getting braver." Cirra giggled timidly.

"You? You don't usually walk up to girls?" She cautiously studied what she could see of him.

"Nope," he said.

"I don't believe it…" she said, cracking another edgy smile.

"It's true."

"Well, if you say so…"

"So, I'm guessing you attend the Superna Knight Academy?"

"I do," Cirra said.

"You like it?"

"It's tough. But, then again, I enjoy a good academic challenge." Link's brow came up.

"Me too," he agreed.

"Speaking of academic, I was just gonna head to the library."

"Library? This late at night?"

"Yup, it's twenty-four hours."

"Whoa…a twenty-four hour library. I'm definitely not in Skyloft anymore."

"Nope, you're in the city," Cirra said, starting to relax a bit.

"So it seems. Would you mind some company?" Link cocked his head, watching her peaceful expression turn uneasy.

"Well, uh…" she said, drumming her fingers.

"I know we just met," Link told her, finishing her thought. "But, no need to worry. I'm a knight."

"Does that automatically make you trustworthy?" she asked with a partial smirk.

"In an idyllic world, maybe," he acknowledged. "But, I can tell you that I've pledged to act honorably toward _and_ protect women, if that means anything."

"Oh," Cirra said shyly, reddening again. "Well, you _seem_ safe, so…"

"That's 'cause I am," Link said reassuringly. "And I'd love to see your library."

"Well, I suppose it would be rude to refuse a guest…"

"I'd have to say that's a fair assumption," Link said with a nod. Cirra giggled lightly.

"Okay, well…" She rose out of her seat. "My friend will know where to find me. Late-night library excursions are certainly not out of the ordinary for me." Link stood beside her, quickly taking in her feminine features. He especially liked her glasses. He wondered how Midna would look in them…

"'Kay, well, shall we?" Link offered her an arm. Smiling at the floor, she slipped her arm into his. "I suppose there's no point in even hoping," he said as he led them to the exit, "but it sure would be nice if I could get my hands on a certain book." Link chuckled at the idea, having accepted the impossible weeks ago.

"And what book is that?" Cirra asked. Link looked over at her, happy that she was at eye level.

"A sacred text," he said.

"Uh…why wouldn't you be able to?"

"Well, every copy of the sacred text was…confiscated, I guess you could say, from Skyloft. I think to ward off mass panic, or something."

"Well, not here," she replied nonchalantly. Link came to a skidding halt. He stared straight ahead.

"You mean, there's a copy of the sacred text? In your library?" Cirra nodded enthusiastically. "Right now?" She nodded again.

He gaped for several more seconds, knowing now that he had, indeed, struck gold.

"Wait by the door for me, okay?" Link asked her, backing away. "Just don't go without me. I'll only be a minute."

"Okay," Cirra said with an uncertain laugh. She giggled as he fled toward the other side of the building. She stood there, amused, yet slightly weirded out by this quixotic young knight.

Dodging bodies, Link shot through the crowd, careful not to touch anyone, but coming dangerously close. Thinking he might have been the reason for the sound of dishes hitting the ground behind him, he kept going, far too excited to stop.

Blasting into the dance club portion of the building, Link hurriedly pored over the layout. Completely shutting out the upbeat music being performed by notably talented musicians, he searched through the mass of tunics and uniforms. In a flash, he honed in on something yellow. He spotted Pipit off to the side, conversing with the same curly-haired lady.

"Pipit!" Link exclaimed, flying up to him. Pipit warily turned his head. "You need to come with me!" By the time he reached his friend, he was out of breath.

"Uuuuh…why?" Pipit asked.

"'Cause there's a library near here that has a sacred text!"

"Wow, really!" Pipit shouted, jumping up and down. It took Link a moment to realize that Pipit was being completely sarcastic. Link's shoulders dropped.

"Come on, Pipit, I'm being serious."

"Yeah, well, so am I when I say that I've got more important things to worry about."

"What, like dragging some girl back to our room?"

"May hap it is, and may hap it _ain't_," Pipit said, agitated. Link gave him a glare.

"Aren't you the one who told me about the sacred texts being hidden? Don't you wanna take advantage of this at all?"

"Look, why don't you go…" Pipit pointed vehemently to the door. "And I can _stay here_." Stepping back, Link sighed.

"That's really what you wanna do?"

"Yes."

"Alright," Link said, throwing his hands up.

"Just don't get lost!" Pipit called before Link had a chance to vanish.

"Don't worry, I have a guide!" Link yelled, departing before any questions could be asked.

Scooping up his attendant, Link left The Complex behind. Toting the massive book under his arm, he chatted with Cirra. He told her about his academy, and she did the same.

Walking several city blocks, Link drank in the sights. The further they traveled, the more ubiquitous the trees became. Along the road, flowering plants flourished, illuminated by an endless string of streetlamps. This part of the city had a rural feel to it which Link found energizing. Combined with good company, it brightened his mood.

As the library drew closer, Cirra talked about her boyfriend, while Link shared about Midna. It was refreshing to tell someone new about her, especially a female who didn't have preconceived notions. Most ladies, Link found, didn't take too kindly to Midna. Not until they really got to know her, anyway.

For a time, Link forgot about the demon lord, his realm, and the Goddess-ordained quest that he was destined to fulfill. He even forgot about Zelda and her mysterious protector. For a few minutes, he was no longer the tormented hero, but a normal young man, strolling down the street with a friend.

With several apartment buildings, shops and bars left in the dust, the library came into view. Observing Link's reaction, Cirra giggled. He appeared awestruck. The building was gigantic, of course, with dozens of stone steps leading to the front entrance, and several floors. Thick pillars stood guard over the doors.

The structure's interior was even more amazing. In keeping with the city's castle motif, the building looked like something out of the ancient texts themselves. On each side of the wide open lobby were staircases leading to the upper floors. Knowing where she was going, Cirra took Link past the front desk.

"The _book that you seek_ is on the topmost floor, sir," she explained. "You can access it from either side of the lobby."

"Are you coming too?' Link asked, setting his sights on the nearest set of stairs.

"Just long enough to point you in the right direction. Then, I need to look for a botany study guide and do a little reading. It probably won't be that long, though, it's pretty late."

"Okay," Link told her.

Link found it incredible how well this girl knew the entire library's schematic. Proving that she knew it like the back of her hand, she pointed out each section, where each genre could be found, and the approximate number of books on each floor.

"I actually work here during the day," she said with a smile. "Me and the Dewey decimal system are _very_ well acquainted."

"I can see that," Link said, impressed.

"Plus, climbing all these steps keeps me slim and trim."

"I can see that…too," he replied, wondering if his comment overdid it. Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind.

Up some more stairs, down several rows of bookshelves and into a back corner, Cirra led him. Light streamed from the walls, but the room was still dim. The library at night was no place for someone with poor eyesight.

"There it is," Cirra said quietly, pointing.

"Well, they sure keep it tucked away, don't they…?"

"It's special." She interlaced her fingers, watching him as he stared. "Well, I'll be a couple levels down on the right side. I'll be there for at least thirty minutes, if you wanted to…" She mashed her toe into the carpet. "Um, if you wanted to walk back with me." Link didn't say anything. "It's alright if you don't, I mean, it's easy to find your way back-"

"Oh, yeah, that's fine," Link said. "Sorry, I'm just distracted." With a little nod, Cirra lowered her head, brushed her long ponytail off of her shoulder and walked to the stairs.

With his companion gone, the area fell silent. Link stood several feet from the short pedestal that held the sacred text. It was just him, and the book…

Balling his hands up, Link approached the artifact. Facing a corner, he laid a hand on the cover, shocked that such an opportunity had fallen into his lap.

"Master," a voice rang. Link stopped.

"Fi," he answered.

"You have done well to find this," she said. With a sound more whimsical than a wind chime, Fi whirled from Link's bag, coming to a soft, floating stop before him. Link stood silently as she set herself gracefully onto her feet.

Being in her presence was soothing, yet vexatious. Fi was always there, whether he remembered her or not.

Fi knew all of his secrets.

_All_ of them.

Link chewed his tongue.

"Hi," he said, finding it troublesome to look her in the eye.

With his recent days filled to the brim with activity, it felt as though it had been an eternity since he'd had the chance to stand with her, and to look up into her effervescent face. In reality, it had only been a day and a half.

But, so much had happened during that short time...

"Master," she repeated, brightening the dark corner. "I detect a slight change in your physical state."

"Yeah, sorry," he said, not knowing what else to say.

"Do not be anxious. You have nothing to fear." Her voice was musical, flittering in the quiet.

"I know, Fi…"

"As is taught in this very text," she said emotionlessly, "everything occurs for a specific reason." Waiting to respond, Link nodded.

"Yeah."

"This discovery is imperative, for, as I have told you, my knowledge, imparted by the Goddess, is limited." Link thought for a moment.

"So…you mean, I was supposed to find this? Tonight?"

"This text will ensure that my understanding is no longer fragmented. Earlier on, certain information was not necessary. You did not require it. Now, you do."

"O…kay," Link said. As Fi rested an indigo hand atop the book's cover, it came to life. The pages began to glow - all two-thousand of them. Link gawked from a distance for the duration of it, not wanting to get in the way.

"The transfer is complete, Master," Fi said, facing him once more.

"Can I read it now?" he asked her.

"Of course. However, keep in mind that I am now able to relay all information to you regarding this book."

"Okay," he said. "I just wanted a chance to look through it myself."

"Certainly." Link leafed through the pages.

"You said I did a good job finding this, but, I don't feel like I did anything…"

"But you did, Master," Fi stated.

"How? Someone else led me here. A _stranger_."

"You did well being where you were meant to be," Fi concluded.

"Oh, it's that simple, huh?" he asked with a less than reverent tone.

"At times, yes. Do not forget that you had the option of relocating yourself." Link looked sideways.

"You mean at the wrong end of the room?"

"Yes."

"Okay, well, I guess the Goddess did well in not choosing a total pervert."

….

_At least things are starting to make some sort of sense,_ Link thought as he carried his tired body up the stairs of the Crown Plaza. If it hadn't been for his nap earlier, he most certainly would have unwittingly turned that lovely copy of the sacred text into a pillow.

"Pipit, we've got some talking to do," he grumbled to himself, rubbing his face. Throwing a glance over each shoulder, he canvased the deathly silent room. From his position on the mezzanine, he saw that the enormous lobby was empty, except for the middle-aged fellow who occupied the front desk.

A deserted stairwell – the perfect place to brood, to recount the events of the day, and to organize one's thoughts on how best to bring up painful yet necessary topics with one's best friend. Not only did unsettling matters need to be discussed, but Pipit had to be brought up to speed on what Link had learned that night. It was too bad that Pipit hadn't come along. The library truly was the wealth of knowledge that Link had hoped it would be.

_It's a library, after all…_

Yet, as excited as Link had been to acquire knowledge about his destiny, his mind was hopelessly stuck on a single subject: Midna.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he took a deep breath. A very deep breath. He looked up, glad for the ten flights of stairs that separated him from his friend. He really needed some time to get his brain waves shifted toward more practical matters. It wasn't that his mind was being bombarded by unwelcome images. He wanted them.

It was normal for him to think about her like this, mostly in the evenings when all was still, when his thoughts finally settled, and when he was alone. Tonight was more of the same, yet, the desire to dwell on her was exceptionally unrelenting.

Link forced himself to consider which topic to start his friend off with. But, business affairs were not at the top of his list of interests at the moment. It was a struggle.

One after another, his feet left the stairs behind as he trudged onward, sending soft echoes throughout the stairwell.

Stepping into the tenth floor hallway, Link's weary eyes were assaulted by a bright carpet.

"Mmmmmnnn," he groaned, not because of the discomfort in his optical nerves, but because the hue reminded him of someone; one person in particular who he was trying not to place too much energy on. He saw voluminous hair and full lips, wondering which of the two was a more pleasing shade of red. It was a toss-up…

And her figure - it defied every law of nature, as well as all known forms of logic. No one should be _that_ attractive. On top of that, no one that attractive should be so smitten with _him_…Not that he was complaining.

She was the perfect mixture of fiery and innocent, of no nonsense and compassion, of titillating and kind. She knew what she wanted, alright, and, for whatever reason, she wanted him.

He wanted her here, now, to sit and stare off into the night with; to watch the glow of the city as they discussed her mysterious past. There were so many things that he needed to know about her. At this point, it looked as though he wouldn't be seeing her for a few days.

By the light of the wall lanterns, he ruffled his hair, counted to twenty, did one-hundred jumping jacks and fifty rapid pushups. Breathing a bit heavier, he jumped to his feet, feeling as though he'd only made it worse.

"This isn't working," he muttered as he buried his face in his hands. Midna was there, dominating his thoughts, whether he liked it or not. Trouble was, he did like it, and he didn't want it to stop.

Standing in front of his door, Link pulled on his collar, rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. Stretching his neck, he dug for his room key.

"Better not be sleeping, Pipit," Link said to himself. "'Cause we're talking, _tonight_." With a soft creak, the door swung open. With eyes half closed, he slid inside, closed the door and locked it.

After removing the key, Link dropped it in his pocket, twirled around and began to take a step. But, what he caught sight of stopped him dead in his tracks, jolting the drowsiness right out of him.

Two people, fervently crawling all over each other. Link immediately stiffened, alarmed by what he had barged in on.

In the midst of a heated escapade, Pipit and his dark-haired lady friend were meshing together against the wall beside his bed. He was roughly, yet amorously, shoving her against it. Based on the sounds coming out of her mouth, she seemed to be enjoying it.

_Oh my goodness, I need to leave_…Link thought, shaking his head. Dumbfounded, he was clueless about what to do. Not only was he afraid of being spotted, he didn't want to see too much. He started planning the quickest route to the next room.

By the same token, the image before him was reminiscent of a flight accident. The scene being played out was one that really shouldn't be watched, yet, it was hard not to do so.

In addition, Link had been unwillingly subjected to Pipit and Karane's noisy lovemaking on more than one occasion, so this wasn't terribly new for him. Those times, however, Link had left, running away before too much mental scarring could occur, and to make his bed on one of the breakfast tables in the kitchen. How many times had he brought this to his friend's attention?

_Pipit, whyyyyy, you knew I was coming back. Don't you ever learn?_

Worst of all, the young lady was missing a good deal of her clothes. Her navy blue knight's tunic was still in place, but she had nothing to speak of on her lower half. Luckily, most of her body was obscured by Pipit as he pressed against her. All Link could see were the woman's bare legs, wrapped firmly around Pipit's middle.

Pipit, however, was fully clothed.

_Thank the Goddess…_

But, judging by his friend's movements, Link was fairly confident that the main event had already started. With his arms under the girl's rear end and his mouth pressed to hers, Pipit bounced her up and down, making her squeal every time.

Link looked away and swallowed. Not knowing why, his eyes made their way back to the amative couple. He tiptoed past the bathroom, slowly making his way to the hall. He brushed against plants, sending petals to the floor. His heart sped up, reacting to the raw display of passion before him. He couldn't help but observe them, watch their movements and listen to their heavy breaths.

_Is that really how women like it, Pipit?_ Link asked himself, somewhat surprised as he studied the way that his friend seemed to ravish her. She moaned in Pipit's ear, answering each rock of his hips with her own. He closed in on her even more as he took hold of her hair, tugging her head to the side. When he did something to her neck that Link couldn't see, she twisted, giving a desperate cry.

Still trying to inch away, Link's eyes widened. It certainly was odd seeing his friend in such an enamored state. The way he expertly drew sensual cries from this girl as he tended to various parts of her body simultaneously was a little bit intriguing.

Having no experience in this area, Link found himself curious, but not shamelessly so.

_Okay…I really need to get out of here,_ he urged himself. Almost hidden in the corridor, Link, knowing he probably shouldn't, took one last look.

Standing with his back to the wall, he turned his head to peek behind him. The pair's interaction had grown more intense, faster, and quite frantic. It was fraught with desire. Link bit his tongue, grinning at the idea of offering his best Commander Eagus impression by shouting, 'Pipit! Your thrust is off!' He laughed silently, determined to keep it to himself. Pipit made the act of pleasing a female look like an art form; to interrupt him now would be like smearing a hand across a painting before it had the chance to dry.

Tying a muzzle to his devilish side, Link laid his head against the wall, feeling a little guilty. He noticed that the girl's face was turning red and her moans were becoming drawn out. He felt a small chill run through his spine. Looking in that girl's face, he saw Midna. Clear as day, he pictured the way that she'd looked that afternoon before he had ventured to the surface. It was an amazing encounter made even more exciting by its taboo nature. He was supposed to be thinking about Zelda. He knew it then, and he knew it now.

When this unnamed woman curled in pleasure, Link saw Midna writhing and grasping his tunic. When the girl's eyes squeezed shut, he saw Midna's face beginning to melt. When the girl threw her head to the side and gave a high-pitched gasp, he heard Midna's smoky voice, uninhibited and unashamed to show her excitement. When the woman crushed her body to Pipit's and cried out, he saw Midna squirming as she reached her peak, filling his ears with the most captivating sounds he could ever wish to hear. He felt her hands on him as she gladly succumbed to what he gave her.

He sighed, longing to enter that secret garden that was Midna's erotic side. That place where no holds were barred, and she finally seemed to, in a sense, submit to him. But, it was all part of the game. As eager as he was to receive it, he wanted to give it, as well, offering himself to her, basking in whatever she wanted to give him.

And he wanted it all, especially right now.

Feeling as though he had experienced some sort of climax along with the woman, Link tore himself away, scuffling down the hall before Pipit reached his own culmination, as well. Link had seen more than enough already.

After being in the light, his bedroom seemed exceptionally dark. He fumbled around before locating a small oil lantern on the bedside table. Using his flint, he lit the lamp, sighing as a comforting glow blossomed forth.

Once the door was closed, Link looked across the room. Past several tables, chairs and a closet was a sliding door. The glass had been left open, causing the sheer floor-length drapes to flow lightly in the breeze. Allowing the gentle gust to tickle his face for a moment, Link searched his room. Between the moonlight and the bobbing flame, he found a brown robe. Draped on a metal hook on the closet, it called out to him.

Hastily, he shed his clothing, dropping everything into a pile at his feet. Just like the first time, it felt fabulous to be free of every last piece of fabric. Linen was breathable, but wool certainly wasn't. Wool was less than ideal for summertime wear; not that knights had a choice in the matter.

With everything off, Link slipped into the robe. It felt cool and lax; the perfect thing to sleep in. Walking a circle around the room, he poked through the floral arrangements. Pushing various flowers aside, he spotted a vase of roses. Sifting through the colors, he pulled out a red one. He buried his nose in it before sinking down into the bed.

The picture of Midna returned to him full force. With her scent in the air, his memory was stimulated. He twirled the stem in his fingers, careful not to puncture himself with the thorns. Just for the fun of it, he pressed a finger to one of the pointed tips to see how much it hurt. As long as the thorns were given the proper treatment, they didn't hurt at all. In fact, he enjoyed the feeling of the sharpness as it scraped his skin.

He sat up, caressing a silky red petal between his thumb and index finger. He watched the curtains glide like waves in the wind. He could almost see Midna standing there, spinning and wrapping the drapes around her body. He could hear, and feel, her beckoning. A quiet whisper swept across his ear. A feathery touch of a hand teased him.

He inhaled deeply, feeling a rather suffocating surge through his body.

_I'm not your enemy_, he heard in his head. _It's okay._

The words were so faint that they could have been the waft of a distant zephyr. He closed his eyes and shook his head, comforted somehow. He wanted Midna there so much.

Yet, he felt guilt-ridden. His thoughts had been tending more and more toward the impure all evening. Him and Midna were no longer together…Was it permissible for him to be thinking this way? He was hard-pressed to believe that it was, considering his longstanding decision to avoid deep intimacy without first being married. They had already crossed certain boundaries, of course, but, in his mind, it didn't justify subsequent encounters, nor did it condone him developing a lecherousness for her. First and foremost, a high level of respect had to be maintained. The last thing he wanted was to dishonor her.

"Maybe I can just apologize next time I see her," he told himself, if he could manage to get past the mortification of admitting what he'd been doing with his spare evenings. "Hopefully she'll understand…"

With his mind made up, Link glanced around the room, hoping to stumble across one of the small treasures that hotels typically provided for their guests. This hotel was fancy; there must've been something good, _somewhere_.

He hopped up and rummaged through the drawers by the bed, fishing for something of use.

Perfume, toothpaste, pens, and scissors: no. He dug a little deeper. Small glass bottle of warming massage gel: _yes_. He crawled back to his original position and sat on his heels.

"It's like it was meant to be," Link said conclusively as he shook a generous glob of the wet substance into his right palm. He stared at it for a few seconds, astounded by the sudden heat that was blooming on his skin.

Without much ado, his hand made its way inside of his robe, applying the moisture, the warmth, and, most of all, the pressure that he had been itching for all night.

"Thank you, Crown Plaza," he sighed. He shuddered. His entire body, along with his thoughts, was beginning to catch fire.

It was effortless. Midna was there, sitting beside him. A silky negligée covered her, but just barely. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she encircled him in her hand, slowly stroking.

_Even heroes need sexual gratification sometimes. _Link grinned.

"I couldn't agree more," he groaned. With each movement, the tingling increased. He leaned forward and moaned softly, knowing that this wasn't going to take long. He wanted it too much. Growing hotter, he started panting. He shimmed out of his robe, allowing it to gather around him on the bed. He wriggled a bit, absorbed, yet slightly uncomfortable.

_Why do you fear this?_

Bringing his head back, he gaped at the ceiling, watching the firelight dance.

"I don't fear this," he breathed.

_Yes, you do. You're hesitant._

"I don't wanna go too far with you," Link whispered, shutting his eyes.

_No, it goes beyond that._

Link just shook his head and groaned, confused by the thoughts that were accompanying one of the best feelings he'd had in a while.

He saw himself in the woods, knees in the dirt, finishing what Ghirahim had started. The memory of the pleasure that cascaded over him as he acceded made him gasp and shake.

"_Don't you realize that I will one day take this part of you for my own?" _ Link's eyes opened at the sound of the demon's voice.

"Get out of my head," Link said, breathing heavily. "You're not gonna ruin this for me."

"_An 'unbreakable spirit' does not a victory brand, sky child."_

"Go away," Link muttered.

"_You know you have no right to think about her like this. Who are _you_ to be violating her?"_

"I'm not listening to you. If you wanna watch me get off, then be my guest."

"_I do enjoy your cute little moans, human."_

"Fine. Just know that-" He stopped to catch his breath, clutching the blanket with his free hand. "…That it's because of her, and not you…"

Link's thoughts began to run wild. No longer in the forest, he was in a luxurious bed. Midna was stretched out beneath him, her hair curled and pinned up, interlaced with white flowers and sparkling jewels. Her face was colored with a natural blush that only a bride could achieve. Her fitted white gown was sliding down, bearing to him the top of her fluttering chest. He was between her knees, slowly setting aside each layer of her full skirt, watching her twist, barely able to contain her happiness. He smiled and whispered, 'It's been a long wait.'

And they were joined, pulling their bodies together like two destined puzzle pieces, aligning what was meant to be. It went far beyond desires of the flesh or lustful infatuation. He wanted to be one with her.

As his hand delivered bursts of ecstasy, his mind drew a picture of the future, of triumph, and of love.

More than himself, he wanted to please _her_, to desert his own personal conquest, and to enchant her with selfless ministrations. He could see her, and feel her as she arched her body up, wordlessly asking for everything. As she held her skirt out of the way, he lowered his head between her legs…

"Mm..I…" he started to mumble as the thought sent him over the edge. His body tightened and his jaw fell long before the final buildup reached its height. With a few more strokes and several gasping moans that would have made any woman swoon, his body crested, thrust forward and released, a zealous shout escaping from him at his very pinnacle.

The contractions that rode him as he huffed and groaned were some of the best sensations to ever mercilessly rip through him. His toes curled, his chest heaved and sweat began to bead on his forehead as the tension left him in a rush of delectation.

He wrapped his lower body in the already dirtied robe, trying to calm himself during the throbbing aftershock.

"Oh…gods…" he breathed as he rolled over. He quickly burrowed beneath the comforter, burying his extremely satisfied body under the softness.

To the sound of crickets and a summer breeze, he dozed off, relieved to have gotten his exigent needs taken care of, but, also questioning the thoughts that had ruthlessly stormed his mind.

…

"_Sky knight…?"_

"Mmmmm…what?"

"_Sky knight, get up…"_

"What…"

Rolling over, Pipit blinked his aching eyes several times. He strained to see in the dark, the lanterns having gone out long ago. Silence filled his ears again. He turned his head, realizing that he was on the bed in the hotel room.

"Who…" he began, rubbing his head.

_"Sky knight."_

"Am I imagining this?" Pipit rubbed his face.

"_No. Get up."_ Lightheaded and confused, he waited, but finally stumbled to his feet.

He recognized this voice.

"I think I'm dreaming," Pipit said, staggering down the darkened hallway. Groaning to himself, he opened Link's door. He peeped inside, relieved to see his friend sleeping comfortably.

"_Don't wake him, if you know what's good for him,"_ the voice warned. Pipit backed up and shut the door.

"So…what do you want?" Pipit asked, feeling crazy for asking. He scratched his forehead, feeling the effects of the alcohol he had consumed earlier.

"_Leave your room, come downstairs, and you'll find out…"_

Pipit wasn't quite sure why, but, he listened. He returned to the main room, slipped his feet into his boots and refastened every loose buckle and button. Then, he made his way to the door.

"What am I doing?" he asked himself, believing that he was still sound asleep. Within seconds, he had left the safety of his room behind.

"_How would you like to play a little game, sky knight?"_


	21. A New Life

_::This chapter is a dream sequence::_

**WARNING:**_ Contains carefully worded sexual content, possibly triggering content._

_Recommended reading: *Realization* by ProtossPianist98, an OoT one-shot._

Chapter 21

A New Life

_A light shined saffron through my eyelids. A soft breeze licked at my face as the clean smell of pine permeated the air. I took the oxygen into my lungs, filling them to capacity. I breathed out, finally allowing the brightness to filter through my light receptors. It was transformed into a myriad of color, existing within, only. Were hues and pigments truly real, or were they an illusion…?_

_A perception, a perspective, present merely in the acuity of my mind._

_What was reality, anyway…? Was it hard and fast matter and substance, or simply what lay in cognizance? _

_After everything, after it all, I wasn't sure._

_Yet, one thing was real no matter how I perceived it: freedom._

_We were older now. I was older, much older than when I had first come here. I was taller and broader, aged and tempered both by time and by war. It showed in the creases on my face and in the scars on my body._

_But, she loved every one of them._

_I could feel her here, without having to open my eyes, but, I did anyway, for I wanted the full experience, to see that which I loved…What I loved more than life itself._

_I had changed so much, and so had she. My relationships had changed. The war had been a thief and a patron, stealing from me people I had known my whole life, yet gifting me with newfound brotherhood, stronger than what I ever thought possible. _

_I couldn't believe how many of my friends were gone. But, of the ones that remained, I was closer to._

"_Link…?"_

_I felt amazing. I couldn't feel any better. My body tingled with an intensely satisfying feeling of completion. A blazing fire had been quenched by a torrent of water, fresher than any mountain stream._

"_Link?" I felt her finger caress my ear. I pulled away, not because her touch felt wrong, but because I couldn't take any more pleasure._

"_Mmmmm…?"_

_Her head rested on my chest, a fitting end to what we had just created. I brought my nose to her hair, closer than I had been able to before this phase in our lives had begun. It was okay now._

_It was a touch, a kiss, an embrace, a connection without shame._

_Entirely free of guilt, both within, and without._

_My early decisions created a domino effect. With a single word I played a god, cutting the thread of life for some yet sparing others. _

_It had been nightmarish and prodigious, devastating and miraculous. It was war._

_It all mattered. It would matter forever. But, it was over. Amity was all that existed. Gone were the days of military campaigns, of strategy, of armament, of working tirelessly to unite a mélange of armies, of turning knights into soldiers and soldiers into knights, of the threat of siege, of reconnaissance, of tactical decisions that would lead to the shedding of blood, of leading the men of Hylia to victory or to death, of never sleeping for more than a few minutes at a time, of telling her that her husband was dead…_

_But, these lives had not been given in vain._

_Now, children ran freely around the rebuilt surface villages…_

"_Did you enjoy that?"_

_A smile filled my face._

"_Even more than last time."_

_She giggled._

_I looked to the left, to the right, to the front…Bright paths laid themselves in every direction. Cottages, mountains, cities, oceans, fields, valleys, wide open skies, they were all there, waiting to be claimed. It was time for the era of peace._

"_Link, where do you want to go?"_

_I sighed, gladly overtaken by my halcyon world, and this angel who had crafted it with me._

_They had asked us to stay, to play a prominent role in the reconstruction, in the deliberations with the surface tribes, in the building of a kingdom._

_Vital, is what they called us._

_The blood and spirit of the Goddess and the Hero. It belonged here, all of it._

_One day, I told them. One day soon. But first… _

"_Anywhere."_

_I shut my eyes again, holding her to me, thankful that the battles had spared her. Thousands had been far less fortunate._

"_Link?"_

_I adored the sound of her voice._

"_Yes?"_

"_Link?"_

"_Yes, my queen?"_

"Sky child…"

"…"

"Sky child…"

"_What did you call me?_

_My world went black._

_Suddenly, I was cold. The sun no longer bathed me in its warmth._

_I tossed, coming to. It was dark. I felt linen beneath me, cool in the places where my body hadn't touched. I turned my hands to grip the sheet…_

_I opened my eyes. _

_A huge, lavish room. A bedchamber._

_I sat upright in haste, gasping and gripping at my body as I strained what was surely injured muscles. I groaned, running my fingers along my limbs. I pulled the foreign, pale material away from my right arm. Cuts and bruises littered it._

_Bringing my palms to my ribcage, I winced, realizing that my torso had been wrapped tautly in gauze._

_I looked around. Someone must have laid me here to rest, and tended to my injuries…_

_My injuries? Where was I? I needed answers…_

_Snubbing the pain, I clambered to my feet. Agony shot through every inch of me. I curled against it._

_Physical pain dominated, yet was paired with a strange, unidentifiable longing…_

_I had to set out...to give it a name._

_Breathing shallowly, I looked around the room. An oil lantern on an elaborate bedside table lit the space. The fibers of a thick red carpet surrounded my toes. It brushed the toughened bottoms of my feet as I cautiously walked. _

_The excessively ornamented walls were closing in on me. The room was spacious, but wasn't large by any means._

_Just small enough to prompt my desire for escape._

_I stepped faster now, passing by several pieces of moquette covered furniture. This room hadn't been used in ages._

_I looked back at the bed, wondering how long I'd been sleeping there._

_I turned ahead to an open door. _

_I wasn't being held here… _

_I left the room, stepping into the hallway. It was enormous, with a width of at least thirty paces and a towering ceiling. _

_I followed the corridor, led by candescent wall torches. Somehow, I knew that they had been placed here just for me._

_Huge, gilded doors vanished in the dimness as I walked, searching, wondering, wanting…_

"Sky child."

_I picked my head up, sensing where the voice had come from. A wide, carpeted staircase lay before me. The voice had drifted down from the second floor. My eyes enlivened. My feet sped up._

_Limping, I reached the foot of the stairs. Lifting my leg proved difficult, but not impossible. The discomfort didn't matter. I needed to ascend to the next level._

_Dozens of stairs, and hundreds of aches. At the top of my own personal mountain, I jubilated motionlessly._

"Come, sky child."

_Just as my heart quickened, so did my feet. An enormous marble statue of a man went practically unnoticed. Another plush rug met my bare soles. Even the railing that lined the mezzanine was gilt-edged. _

_The master bedroom. That's where I was going. I already knew._

_Turning a corner, I spotted my destination. Golden double doors were splayed open, awaiting me._

_I peeked inside before entering. Even in my familiarity, I was afraid. I would always be afraid of him._

"Come, sky child."

_I shuddered, obeying his authoritative voice. Within seconds, my pained body was next to him._

_He was seated before a fireplace, facing away. I stood with arms dangling, baggy, pallid fabric streaming down, waiting. _

_I studied him. Seated, his form was the same - confident, poised, robust, insurmountable. He couldn't be bothered to look at me until it was of the utmost convenience. He was in the middle of a page._

"I see you've awoken."_ His voice was the same, but his tone was different. He seemed calm. _"You've been sleeping for two days. Not surprising…" _He turned to me, his black eyes lined with russet burning into me,_ "…Considering your _ravaged_ state." _He returned to his book._

_I looked down, noticing the pain more now. Yet, in this place, where I stood, it didn't hurt as much._

"What do you recall, sky child?" _He flipped his page. I waited quietly, for I had no answer to give. I didn't remember anything. _"It's over."

_I inhaled deeply. Over? Did that mean what I thought it meant?_

"I would say you are a rare breed, unique among your kind, but I would be guiltier of exaggeration than a human is of worshiping a pitiable goddess."

_I waited._

"Believe me, sky child, right now, there is no shortage of failed heroes in this world. You are but one among countless."

_I wanted to speak, to ask about my friends and what became of them. I needed to know what was happening in the place endearingly dubbed 'Castle Town' by my fellow knights and soldiers…our makeshift home._

"It's gone, human."

_I blinked. It was as if he had read my thoughts._

"_They_ are also gone." He turned another page.

_What? It couldn't be…_

_My friends, the village…Skyloft, all those civilians…_

_I had promised her…_

"Most remain alive." _His tone was disturbingly nonchalant. _"Those with a purpose have been kept. All others – knights, soldiers – are gone. It was the only way." _His book shut with a small thud. He slowly rose, still viewing the fire._

_It was beginning to climb higher._

_My eyes reached his head as it came to loom over me. I saw his arms cross to undress his shoulders of his heavy crimson cloak. After draping it on his chair, he circled round._

_When his eyes came upon me fully, my breath caught in my throat. He looked different to me. His arms were bare, no longer clutched by vambraces. His pale attire appeared stately, yet comfortable._

_However, I was anything but. He was staring at me, hard. _

_I had come here. This was my doing. I had heard his voice and I had…wanted to come._

_My heart picked up even more. My eye contact faltered as I looked down._

_I didn't remember, yet I knew._

_As he took a step, I felt a twinge in my body. My lungs tightened as if to suffocate me. I tried to hide my reaction, but my face gave it away._

_He took another step, and the sensation increased. I felt my ears growing warm._

_Another step. Part of me wanted to retreat, but…_

_At last he came to me. He was so close that I could have touched him if I so chose._

_We stood, just as we had so many times before, as if personal space had no meaning. My gaze was on his feet before rising to what was directly in front of me: his chest._

_I started to shake. My body was thirsting for something. His closeness was affecting me._

"Did I not tell you you would return to me, my vassal?" _His hand rested between my neck and shoulder. His touch triggered my body's senses. I panted a few times, trying to keep my composure. Even as my faculties began to weaken, I saw his grin, quite clearly._

"Did I not also tell you that you would one day find yourself in my home, melting under my touch?"

_He was pleased. Very pleased. A wave of chills overcame me. I couldn't stop it. He'd always known that I enjoyed this sort of massage._

_He had already taken ownership of what he had set out to, what had been required of him, what his master wanted…_

_And, now, here he was, laying claim, asserting his dominance over his prize._

_I was merely an afterthought, an extra, icing on his cake, as he had described me in his realm. He didn't need me like he had needed Zelda, but, I was his desire._

_And, in a small part of myself that I despised, he was mine, as well._

_In weakness I had answered his call and gone to him under the cover of darkness. The deep woods had been a refuge for me, a place where secrets were kept, and yearnings were fed._

_If she ever noticed me leaving in the night, she had never mentioned it._

"You owe me your loyalty, sky child. All of it. Will you give it freely, or shall I force it from you?"

_I barely heard him._

"Does it bother you that I slit her throat after her essence had been fully drained?"

"_Mmmm, I…Zelda…?"_

"Does it leave you with an unsavory taste that it was your own sword that cleaved the spirit maiden's neck?"

_I don't know when, but tears had begun to fall. I gripped his shirt with both hands, pressing my ear to my shoulder as he kneaded._

"Our meetings in the woods are nothing compared to what you are about to experience."

_What he had promised to me…it was happening. I was now a pawn in his wicked game, of which there was no escape._

_I wasn't sure if I wanted to._

_I was slipping. Control was leaving me, and I was forgetting them._

_It was an odd thing when he had his way. I would be spliced in two, torn apart, driven in two directions..._

_I locked eyes with him as his hands coursed my body. _

_Why was my face wet...?  
><em>

_I tried to maintain a stony expression as he smiled at me, relishing in my struggle. He knew, and I knew, that I had no chance. I had been given to an addiction of his aura long ago. But still, I played the game. _

_I was stiff and dogged at first._

"So wonderfully obstinate, sky child."

_This. This was exactly what he wanted. To push me…further and further to the brink, exploiting my unspoken desire. He knew exactly how to do it. Then, as I tumbled over the edge, he would play, have his way however he wished, watching me, examining me with his hands, molding me into his own little experiment – seeing what he could do, how he could do it, how long he could do it, before I would lose my control. And he would marvel in what my body did, how I reacted, as if it was something brand new every time…_

_But, there were still many, many things that had never come to pass. His interest encompassed a single square on a chess board._

_I suspected that it may, soon, break out of its box._

_A blinding euphoria swept over me as he skillfully brought my senses to their highest height, cheaply doing those things to me that he knew I was susceptible to. I didn't even care when some of my clothing began to disappear._

_I had lost, he had won, and this was my new life._

_He guided my partially pleasured body to the most luxurious bed I had ever seen. _

_Gold, red, maroon surrounded me as a decadent blanket entrapped me._

_I felt my arms held to the sides._

"Seeing as though you were so kind as to pay me a visit, my pet…" _He stared straight at me._ "Would you fancy a little game to celebrate our new beginning?"

_I was helpless but to gape._

"I don't promise you…_rainbows_, sky child." _He almost laughed. _"And I dare not twist the truth to state that pain will not be an occasional companion for you. But, right now, tonight…"

_He rubbed my left ear. I turned my head, offering him all of it. My own voice constructed a harmony along with his as he talked to me._

"I think it's finally time for the demon lord to show the hero what he asked of him so long ago. Is that…_okay_, sky child?"

_Fetters began to encircle my wrists._

_Oh, Goddesses…_

"_Y-yes, that's…okay…"_


	22. Benign Weapons

**WARNING:**_ This chapter might be disturbing for some. It deals with issues of childhood abuse, so read at your own risk._

Chapter 22

Benign Weapons

In a confused haze, Pipit tread down the hall, delsutory, aimless, doubting…

He couldn't accept the notion that he was in the midst of anything but a dream.

"Mmmmmmmmmm…" he groaned. "What am I doing?" His feet clearly agreed with his clouded mind: this was a bad idea. "I didn't drink _that_ much." He shrugged.

Without knowing why, he allowed his steps to take him further and further from his room, and his friend.

"Link's got the right idea," he grumbled to his nonexistent shadow. "A peaceful sleep. Why the hell aren't _you _happily unconscious, Pipit?" With a heavy stomp and a ruffle of his hair, he looked around.

The hallway was unlit, brimming with a tomblike silence. Odd for a large city hotel such as this, no matter what time of day it happened to be…

Even stranger, the corridor appeared to stretch out indefinitely.

"Now I _know_ this isn't real," he assured himself. "Our room's right next to the…" He twisted around, searching for the door that he had just exited from. But, all that lined his vision was an empty, black expanse. "…The stairwell…"

As his voice trailed off, his eyes grew. He froze.

"You and your sottish dreams, Pipit," he said with nervous cheer. "What else is gonna happen? One of those leggy strippers gonna pop out of nowhere and offer a lap dance?" Wriggling his fingers, he turned his back to the void. He took a forced step. "Maybe one of those burgers you ate is gonna randomly show up and start eating _you_, instead…" He tried to make himself laugh, but it didn't work.

The dim hall was slowly beginning to resemble an underground tunnel. Still, he kept walking. He knew he couldn't go back.

He swallowed. His throat suddenly felt dry. The air was very wrong here.

Something brushed past his ear.

Lurching to the side, he gasped.

"What the f-!" he yelled, clamping his mouth shut for a second. "Oh goddesses, you can't be so drunk that you're gonna conjure up some bogeyman, now…" Shivering, he continued on. The corridor was without end. "Where-"

"Are you quite through referring to yourself in the second-person?" a low voice inquired. Not breathing, Pipit slid to a stop. His ability to speak almost hitched in his throat.

"Who…" he started. His eyes darted about.

"I say, sky knight…" Pipit shut his eyes, hoping that he would wake up from this nightmare. "You must be quite fond of death."

"I _what_?" He breathed in sharply. After skipping a beat entirely, his heart started pounding in his ears.

"Death. You must _like it_." Pipit's expression twisted at the biting tone. "Didn't you hear me?" Staring at nothing, he vacillated.

"Oh gods…I don't wanna have any dreams involving _you_," Pipit said, returning with a cut of his own. "You're the last effed up freakin' deviant I'd ever want in my head."

Straight ahead, a silhouette materialized. Pipit stiffened in alarm.

"Is that so?" The murky form began to make its way toward him. Pipit slowly retreated. "I do believe that _you_ are not one to talk, _human_." Pipit's jaw dropped in worry. As adrenaline began to pump, his breathing sped up. "Even if I had it in my infinitely superior mind to _vitiate_ you…"

"Ah!" Pipit yelped as his back hit a dead end. His hands slapped against the barrier. The impact delivered such a jolt that he began to suspect that this might not be a dream, after all.

"..Success would dodge my grasp, for, you see, it is an impossibility to corrupt that which is already crooked." Pipit pressed into the wall, watching helplessly as the figure approached.

"What?"

"What sort of honorable knight…" The being came closer. "…One who has vowed to protect and respect women in every sense…" Pipit grimaced as he spotted a red drape in the darkness. He shook his head, denying the advance of a monster. He squeezed his eyes shut as if to will the footfalls away through determination alone. "…Would do what you just did?"

The voice was in front of him now, unswerving in its grimness. Pipit opened his eyes to two white-clad feet.

"What did I do…" he stated without question, already knowing. He shut his tired eyes again.

"Why, you used that girl, of course. For your own carnal enjoyment." Pipit kept his head low, not wanting to address the voice's owner.

"I didn't use her," Pipit said, glaring down.

"Oh, no?"

"No."

"Then, what is her name, sky knight?" Prepared to respond, his mouth opened, but put forth only silence. "Well?"

"I _know_ her _name_," Pipit snarled.

"Watch your _tenor_, sky knight," the voice warned. "What is it?" Again, Pipit wavered.

"She told me…" he said. "I know it…"

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do," he muttered angrily.

"No, you don't!" The voice flared, loud enough to echo throughout the contained oblivion. Pipit jumped, instinctively lifting his head. When he saw who was before him, fear astired. "Her well-being, who she is, means nothing to you. You merely desired her body."

"That's not true…"

"Oh, but it is." Pipit saw the demon's ghostly lips crimp into a grin. "Not only are you a lush, but a lecher."

"I am not!" Ghirahim's smile widened, displaying a sharp canine. He brought himself squarely into the young man's face, staring down, enjoying the smell of suppressed trepidation.

"Do not refute that to project your _virulence_ onto unsuspecting women is your favorite pastime." For a moment, Pipit remained quiet. "Looking for ways to, as they say, validate your manhood, sky knight? Or, perhaps, vindicate yourself?" The demon's eyes illuminated, showcasing a roguish glint.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pipit asked, pushing backward.

"And why is that, do you think?" the demon asked, lifting a leather-wrapped hand to Pipit's face, sweeping his bare fingers against him. Stunned, Pipit didn't move. "Is there something…_in your past_ that could be responsible for this…insatiable _need_ of yours?"

"I don't have any need," Pipit insisted, watching the hand as it stroked his face. He took a shallow breath.

"Are you sure about that?" The demon tipped the knight's chin up with his free hand. "Are you not endeavoring to fill a void, a crater that has been made within you, by _him_?" Distracted and distressed by the invasive fingers, Pipit's eyes fluttered.

"This is the worst dream ever," he asserted. The demon chuckled through his nose.

"Oh, but it is going to get far worse, sky knight." An ecstatic grin crossed his face, shocking Pipit straight through to his core. Ghirahim's thumb grazed the corner of his mouth. "Would you like to be reminded of what it feels like to be manipulated?" His eyes burned with intensity. "To be whisked away into a world of pleasure that you did not intend?"

"I already know what it feels like," Pipit said as the wall encountered more of his back.

"Do you know what the 'pleasure principle' is?" Pipit dithered for a moment.

"Uh…"

"I believe your id and ego are clashing right now, human."

"What're you trying to say?" Bewildered, Pipit gaped.

"Let me show you, _Sir Pipit_."

Within seconds, Pipit was swept into the demon's arms, his head veiled by thick, red fabric. Restrained by strong hands, he grabbed the only thing that he could – Ghirahim's shirt.

"What're you doing!" Pipit shouted. A strange dizziness infiltrated him.

"Taking you somewhere," Ghirahim told him, feeling the human jerk in his arms. "This may hurt a little bit."

With struggling out of the question, Pipit curled against the demon's chest. A crushing pins-and-needles sensation tore through him. He cringed and wrung his hands.

"Told you," Ghirahim hummed happily.

With the drone of a gale in his ears and pain running through his veins, Pipit was overcome by light-headedness. His only option was to ride out the storm in the demon's embrace.

Ghirahim squeezed the smaller being to his body, enjoying his helplessness.

"Are we having fun yet, dear?" Unable to speak, Pipit just writhed. The demon tightened around him, rewarded by waves of pleasure from the human's discomfort.

It would only get better from here…

"I have a sneaking suspicion that you humans will never master the art of comfortable 'transport'," Ghirahim said with disappointment. "Too _weak_ is what you are." Concealed by the velvet cloak, Pipit slipped down, feeling the floor come up under his feet. The demon whipped his cape away as if to reveal the product of a magic trick.

Disorientated by his fuzzy vision, Pipit's head swam. Teetering on his feet, he crouched down and covered his eyes before the head rush claimed his balance.

"And feeble. Let's not forget feeble," Ghirahim emphasized.

"Ugh…" Pipit set both palms to the floor. "What was that?"

"A better way to travel," the demon informed him.

"Why did it feel like that?"

"As I've already pointed out, you are _weak_, sky knight." Squinting, Pipit looked up.

"If I'm so weak…and unarmed…" He swallowed back some dread. "Then why am I…why don't you-"

"Exterminate you?" the demon interjected. Pipit scowled at his grin. "Slaughter you? Bump you off?"

"Yes…"

"Let's just say, human, that you are very, very fortunate that iron sharpens iron."

"What?"

"On your feet, knight." Ghirahim crossed his arms, waiting, reveling in the human's position. He was practically on his knees. The demon wiggled his antsy fingers, tempted by his appearance. To Pipit, the look in the demon's eye was all too familiar. "Come, now. You'd be wise to act upon my orders…_immediately_."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you…?" Pipit mumbled, leaning an elbow onto his leg before pushing up. The only thing that kept him from toppling was his fortitude. "Is that the _game_ you mentioned a minute ago?"

"The untarnished submission that will undoubtedly follow your impudence?" Ghirahim folded his hands with ample grace, cocking his head. "I'm afraid _that_ is simply the by-product of the game. The _black tongue_, if you will."

"Black tongue…That implies a benign condition."

"Well," the demon purred, sauntering up to him, "what's a little tongue between friends, eh, sky knight?" Pipit marveled.

"You really enjoy that as well, it seems," Pipit said. "Pulling out past utterances of mine. Why can't they ever be the sort that make me look _good_?"

"Where's the fun in that, now…?" As the demon went to place a hand on Pipit's shoulder, he jumped back.

"Why are you acting like I'm comfortable with you, or…" He hesitated. "Or that you have this right to put your hands on me?"

"Perhaps I've confused you with your desire-accreting friend." The demon smirked. Mouthing something, Pipit raised a brow and scoffed before looking away.

"Right," he said rigidly. He explored the demon with questioning eyes.

"You seem troubled by that."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Pipit stretched up tall.

"Jealous, are we?" the demon asked with a chuckle.

"Jealous?" Pipit repeated. He observed his enemy's coy head tilt. "Oh, because I'm supposed to want him for myself, right?" The demon shrugged. "Well, I'll tell you one thing. I'd rather it be _me_ instead of _you_, but not for the reasons you think. At least I wouldn't _rape_ him."

"Nothing is stolen from the eager, my dear knight," Ghirahim chimed, marching forward.

"You're a damn liar," Pipit growled, backing up.

"Steady your feet," Ghirahim commanded, reaching an arm out.

"I don't need to listen to you," Pipit said, watching the demon's pace.

"When you are in my presence, in my care, you do."

"Take me back…" He gulped, determined to keep his self-control.

"You're on _my_ time, human. You go back when I say you can."

"You brought me here! I didn't ask for th-"

"Shut your mouth, sky knight," Ghirahim chided.

"What'd you do to him?" Pipit asked, fighting a slouch.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes, I would." Pipit's boots raked the floor. "I'd like to know which sort of death you deserve." Shuffling, his gaze wandered about the room. He hadn't even thought to place his whereabouts. "Whether it be dismemberment, perhaps drowning…" His eyes came up to meet the demon's. "Maybe I'll gouge a hole in your throat and let you _bleed out_."

"Mmm, mmm, mmm…" Ghirahim chortled. "Such disesteem. Such impertinence. And our game still has yet to commence." This time, Pipit circled around, mindful of the rear wall.

"I'm not playing any games with you."

"Oh, but you are." Stopping, the demon lord lifted a hand, fingering the smoothness of the cerise gem on his hip. "I think it's time to vanquish this false pride of yours." With a signature snap, he vanished, leaving Pipit with a fleeting surge of translucent diamonds.

"What the…?" He shook his head, already fed up. As he put one foot forward, something heavy met his toe. Afraid to look down, his head slowly, slowly dropped. He rubbed his hair, becoming aware of his cap's absence.

A sword – modest and wooden – had taken the demon's place. Puzzled, Pipit bent down.

Opting not to touch it, he scoured the weapon, spotting various imperfections; most were superficial. One flaw, however, ran from one end of the fuller to the other. A deep gash, unsightly and jagged, split the blade down the middle.

He recognized this sword…

With caution, he looked around. An inkling that he knew of this weapon's origins was beginning to bud.

At that moment, Pipit's world stopped. It was as if four partitions had erected themselves all around him, blocking him on every side. He was forced to look, to own the realization.

A wary arm stretched as two knees dropped to the floor. He rotated the weapon by its hilt, looking for something – anything – that could confirm his suspicions; an identifying characteristic.

Then, he remembered: the grip.

Pipit retreated. He set his jaw and squared his shoulders. If this sword was what he thought it was…

Throwing caution to the wind, his unprotected hand returned. With a less than gainly grab, he flipped the blade, bringing a loud yet dull clunk to the dim enclosure. A fire, barely burning, struggled for life behind him. It provided just enough light to see by. He glanced to the right, taking note of a door left ajar several yards away.

Lowering his face to the sword's handle, he gasped.

There, etched into the grip, were two words that would forever be carved into his memory:

Instructor Calwren.

A sharp chill struck Pipit then, followed by a billow of heat. A racing pulse made his body throb and his heart thump.

Somehow – whether by sheer amazement or morbid curiosity – the weapon made its way into his hand. He clutched it, squeezing, unable to believe what he was touching.

It was extraordinary. This was the same weapon - the exact same sword that he had sparred with on so many occasions. He hadn't held it since he was a boy.

In fact, the final time that the handle had rested in his grip…

"Master Pipit."

Flying to his feet, Pipit stood at attention, the odd sensation of well-known wood within his fingers. The sword was small and non-threatening; a perfect fit for a junior knight-in-training.

This sword had been present for, and was a silent witness to, many, many things…

Petrified, he locked eyes with the oncoming demon. His palm started to sweat. He hadn't been called 'Master Pipit' in years.

"I'm glad you came," Ghirahim said. Narrowing his gaze, Pipit felt his equanimity slip. "Because, my dear boy, your invitation is in desperate need of improvement."

As the dreadful sentence slithered into his ears, Pipit nearly dropped the sword. He tightened his hold on the weapon, the wooden object...a toy, essentially. As he did, he felt smaller, and smaller.

The demon stepped closer, holding a similar sword. It appeared worn and scratched, having seen decades of use.

Ghirahim's posture, and voice, had changed. His manner had shifted, yet remained as pompous as ever. Pipit's face drained of all color upon seeing the way that the blade was resting on the demon's shoulder.

"You'll never pass the secondary knight academy entrance exam without my help, son." With a jaunty strut, the demon stopped before him. Pipit didn't know what to say.

"Come now," Ghirahim spoke in his usual tone. "This is a scene which you know very, very well." He glided closer. "You've rehearsed these lines and actions in your head _so_ many times…" He examined the human's distraught expression. "You've picked it apart, analyzed it, traced the truth through the horror…" He spoke slowly, softly, thriving on the tension he was creating. "…Trying to decide why the events played out in the way that they did…Fumbling for a resolution that would never come." Pipit looked down. "Attempting to create an alternative ending to a rather _disgraceful_ story."

The floor became a fixation for Pipit as he listened. Repulsion welled up as he realized what was happening.

"How do you know…exactly what he said that day?" he asked.

"Why, from you, of course," Ghirahim confirmed.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"How?" Pipit drove a dubious look into his enemy.

"If you want to know so badly..." Ghirahim whispered, steadying the human with his powerful hands. The tip of the sword fell as Pipit looked up. Ghirahim's face neared his own. "Then I can give you a demonstration." As the demon pulled their mouths together, Pipit grimaced and turned away.

"No, that's okay," he breathed. "It's…_weird_…but, I think I get it…" The demon's grin blazed.

"Shall we continue, then?" he asked, his demand posing as a question. Pipit squirmed under his hands.

"Continue? What are you trying to do?"

"Bestowing nostalgia upon you, human." Bewilderment began to take hold once more.

"This is the last sort of nostalgia-"

"Needless to say, to feed you your lines would be redundant. You know them well, do you not?" Pipit's eyes jumped from the demon's face to his chest.

"My lines? You make it sound like we're performing something from a script."

"Oh, we are. The script of your past. I judged it to be the highest form of entertainment...the only thing worthy of marking this special occasion of ours – your _promised_ visit." Pipit's stomach churned.

"But…why-"

"My motivations are anything but feckless, sky knight." Austerity reigned on Ghirahim's face. Intimidated, Pipit grinded his teeth.

"How far are you gonna take it?" he asked through an unbending, clenched mouth. The demon shook his head.

"You will _see_." With a quick squeeze, he left the knight. "Now, get a firm grip on that weapon." Lifting his wooden blade into the air, the demon put the young man on guard. "A knight is only as good as his weapon. Show me what you've got, _Master Pipit_."

Uncertain, but without a choice, Pipit adopted his usual fighting stance. With his left foot in front, his left hand readied his weapon.

Pleased, Ghirahim put on his acting cap.

"Can't I just go back?" Pipit asked, clinging to hope.

"Eventually," the demon answered. "But, that is _not_ the proper way for you to address your instructor." Pipit rolled his eyes.

"What if I refuse to play your little _game_?"

"Is that a challenge?" the demon asked, abandoning his Cawlren demeanor for a few seconds. Pipit shrugged. "Well, in regard to your _friend_…" Ghirahim paused, knowing that further explanation wasn't necessary. "I don't believe that you can afford the risk. Catch my drift, sky knight?" With nothing left to say, Pipit nodded. "Very well. En garde…"

Over the course of thirty excruciating minutes, Pipit was subjected to his worst nightmare. With precision, the demon brought to life the very thing that had been haunting him for the past eleven years; the painful sequence of memories that he would have eradicated from his mind if he'd had such an ability.

Stoking Pipit's obduracy, the demon - and his forcefulness - distracted him from how dire his situation truly was.

Ghirahim had every word down pat. Much to Pipit's dismay, he had Instructor Calwren's tone and mannerisms mastered, as well.

In Pipit's eyes, he had stepped into a time warp. The demon was no longer a villain toying with him. He was Pipit's abuser; the man who had ruined his life.

As the young man's emotions multiplied, an ebullition threatened to erupt. An outburst flaunted itself in his eyes and danced on his lips, but, somehow, he managed to give Ghirahim what he wanted: his cooperation.

They moved in circles, conversing, reenacting the harrowing scene to a tee. With an eerie calmness masking his elation, Ghirahim 'taught' the young man, just as his old instructor would have.

And the prizefight carried on…

"Riposte!" the demon ordered in Calwren's place, coming at the human with an energetic lunge. Red-faced and winded, Pipit parried his opponent's weapon before offering a sharp thrust. Amazingly, the demon dodged the jab in the same way that Calwren always did. "You seem rather out of breath, my boy. Would you care for a respite?" Standing out of his rival's range, Pipit just glowered. With a debonair flip of his wrist, Ghirahim brought a hand to his pointed ear, emanating expectancy. Pipit sighed.

"Yes, sir," Pipit replied gruffly, knowing full well what was coming. He aligned his bent posture.

"That's not the answer of a knight, _child_," the demon scolded. His face transformed, showing an unforgettable mixture of viciousness and lust. Staying true to Pipit's experience, Ghirahim dashed forward, swinging his sword across the human's body. With a loud crack, the wooden blades met. Huffing, Pipit scarcely preserved ownership of his weapon. He stumbled back, catching himself with a wide stance.

Showing little regard for his 'student's' well-being, the demon jabbed toward the human, provoking him to block. With the window open, Ghirahim swiped his scuffed weapon across Pipit's multiple times, exerting a ream of brute strength.

Agasp, Pipit tried to counterattack, but resolved to defend himself, just as he had the first time…

One…

He already knew what was on the horizon for him.

Two…

Mental exhaustion had weighed him down long before the scrap had taken its toll. He gave an extended blink, counting in his head.

Three…

The third impact hurt his shoulder during the first encounter, as well.

Four…

His countenance intensified. This was it. Fervently, he squeezed the hilt, hoping that it would end differently.

Five…

Across the stone floor the sword skidded, scraping past the dying fire. Pipit pictured its three counterclockwise rotations before they came to pass. Not moving, he watched his weapon slide to a stop. With a sigh, he shut his eyes and braced himself.

With a cry that was impossible to repress, he hit the wall, shoved violently back by the demon.

"Mmm!" he grunted as his head hit the wall. "Uuugh." It felt just as painful the second time.

Ghirahim let the sword slip from his hand, filling it again with the yellow wool below Pipit's neck. The demon twisted his fingers around, enjoying the warmth of the human's unarmored skin.

The two breathed together for a time, heavily, their upper bodies rising and falling in unison. Pipit's growing fear coalesced with a feeling that he had never wanted to experience again.

He forced himself to look into the demon's face. There, he saw Instructor Calwren's look of contempt, intermingling with a mysterious hatred which Pipit would never be able to make sense of.

And, of course, arousal. Studying the demon, Pipit couldn't tell if the impious flames in his eyes were the result of a stellar acting job, or if they existed in their own right.

Pipit found himself in that same precarious moment. He peered down, seeing the demon's fingers spread over his shoulders.

In a way, the demon was of the same calibur as his old teacher. Yet, his touch felt different. It was more potent, somehow.

"Okay, that's enough…" Pipit nearly pleaded. "You've made your point. Whatever the hell your warped point is, you've made it…"

"I don't believe I have, yet," the demon said, riding Pipit's muscular frame with his hands.

Pipit certainly was no longer a boy, but, tonight, he felt like one.

"There is no end to your mulishness," the demon said, "yet you submit so much more readily than the other human. It's…intriguing, sky knight." His hands continued their descent. Pipit shook, lost in a memory.

He wasn't sure where his enemy's hands had traveled to. He sensed only a flurry of movement; one that brought back a distinguishable sensation.

He could've sworn he was in his abuser's clutches again.

"This is the last thing I ever wanted for myself…" Pipit said, his voice suggesting something different. Ghirahim smiled, his head swaying back and forth in happiness.

"Oh, he did a fine job with you, sky knight. A very fine job, indeed…" The words reminded Pipit of it all…of everything he had tried so desperately to forget.

"What're you trying to do?" Pipit asked in a shaky whisper. He looked down to hide his face.

"I told you, knight. This is my recreation. And, if the welfare of your best friend means anything to you, then you will _let me_." Feeling his left hand massaged by lithe fingers, Pipit took a deep breath.

"Oh, just like _he_ made threats on my mother's life?" Pipit asked. "Is that the only trick you degenerates know?" He held still as his hand was lifted and turned.

"Do you think I'm an artless one-trick pony, sky knight?" The demon ran a fingertip down the center of the human's hardened, weapon-wielding palm. With head still bowed, Pipit cringed. "Oh, no. Light-years from it, _my boy_." Pipit sighed, trying to keep calm. "Bring your eyes to me when I'm speaking to you, knight."

Hesitating, Pipit listened, not quite knowing why. He was met by an amused grin.

"What's this?" Ghirahim's long thumb swept the human's cheek, smearing the moisture underneath his eye. "Do I bring tears to your eyes, _Sir Pipit_?" As if on cue, another tear fell. "Interesting, considering that the only other person to ignite such emotion in you is your best mate." The pair's gazes clinched. The demon cocked his head. "In fact, never have you shed a single tear for yourself." Ghirahim's smiling face came down to hover before the human's. Pipit shied his closed eyes away, breathing unevenly. "What does that say about _us_, sky knight?"

"Please…just let me go," Pipit said, retracting his hand. But, the demon countered by seizing his index finger, separating it from the rest. Pipit's heartbeat practically terminated when he remembered something that he had overlooked in the confusion.

"Do you know my name, human?" Slowly, Pipit shook his head. "Do you harbor a _desire_ to know?" This time, he nodded. "Very well." The demon leaned further in.

"_Ghirahim,_" he said unhurriedly, sensually, if only to watch the young man fight back a shiver. "Demon Lord Ghirahim." He waited, delighting in Pipit's widened eyes. They were of an impressively crisp blue; rare treasures, undeniably. The demon dived wholeheartedly in. Pipit held his breath.

In a single, swift movement, Ghirahim slipped the human's finger into his mouth, garnering a satisfying cry of surprise from him. His mouth fell open as his eyes were enticed by the demon's.

Admiring the shocked face before him, the demon sucked on the small appendage, knowing that the knight hadn't anticipated the full treatment. Delivering a light nibble, the corner of his mouth curved up. With gentle suction, he removed Pipit's finger, his dark tongue coiling around it as it made its departure. A gasp escaped into the air as the stimulation was taken away.

"_He_ is the only one aware of this fetish, this weakness of yours, isn't he, knight?" Pipit withdrew, distraught; but, his hand remained captive. "Your little girlfriend doesn't know, nor do any of the many young ladies you've laid with…"

"That's it…" Pipit uttered, wholly perturbed. "I need to go back." His attempt to regain his hand was effortlessly thwarted.

"So deliciously capture-bonded." Pipit blinked, demoralized. "I must reiterate – such a wonderful job he did with you. You are a work of art, sky knight. A demon lord's dream-come-true." He teased Pipit's face with a pristinely manicured thumbnail. "The stubbornness married with rapid submission - such a wicked indulgence." He dropped his chin and gaped, a low, thrilled moan rumbling in his throat. "You came to him, with defenses down...with the trust of a child. Beautiful."

"No," Pipit said in refusal. "Let me go, _now_." A rough yank finally freed his limb. The demon's face didn't alter.

"Is escape truly so attractive, human? More so than what has been set aside for you here?"

"_Yes_," Pipit snapped.

"Hmm," Ghirahim hummed. "Well, heed what I am about to tell you, my dear knight." He eyed Pipit's restless left hand. "Option one: you stay here, _detained_, until further notice, whereby we continue our game." He licked his lips. Pipit frowned, impatient.

"I choose option two," he blurted out. "I don't care what it is. I'll take it." The demon giggled, crossing his long arms.

"You would be wiser to learn what that selection entails first."

"Fine, go ahead."

"I let you go. Alone." Pipit looked to the side. The statement was much too unpretentious.

"But, _where_ are you letting me go? Where am I?"

"Ah, and perhaps he is _not_ so daft, after all," the demon laughed. "You, my precious thing, are in my home." With a dramatic wave of his svelte arm, he presented the room, and everything that surrounded it. Severe eyes connected with Pipit's, scrutinizing.

"Your home?"

"Yes. My castle, if you'd prefer the strict term." His listener stopped to think.

"But, how do I get out of here? How do I get back home?"

"I do believe that is _your_ concern. Not mine, human."

"Well, how is that fair?"

"As a judicious person once said, 'The world isn't fair. Why should I be?'" Pipit scoffed.

"Whatever," he spat. "See ya." He hastily tromped around the demon.

Ghirahim's fist smacked straight into the human's ribcage, thieving his confident stride. Pipit desisted, gawking at him.

"You have a lot to learn. Do _not_ forget who you're dealing with, _child_," the demon admonished. "Remember, I could have _had_ you, in _any_ way that I wished, this very night. _Remember that_." Thrown off by the harsh rebuke, Pipit turned a deep shade of red. He looked away, as angry at the demon as he was at his response. Impelled not only by fury but by his hurting pride, he strode ahead without turning back.

"To belabor a point, you must be fond of death, '_hero's best friend'_." Pipit stilled himself.

"What? You never told me what you meant…"

"Supercurious, are you?" Pipit rotated an inch. "Our first meeting consisted of your weapon impaling me, if you recall. That was rather grisly of you, human."

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat," Pipit stated.

"Right, well," Ghirahim said, discounting his words, "your friendship with the 'Goddess's chosen' will prove to be your end. If you are acquainted with cerebration in any form whatsoever, then you've already discerned this indubitable verity." Pipit's ears perked. "On top of these irrefutable facts, you would prefer death over me, even now. You are a mystery, sky knight."

"Prefer death?"

"Well…" The demon shrugged a single shoulder. "Perhaps, perhaps not. But, the risk thrives here, human."

"I'll take my chances, thanks," Pipit called, pushing through the cracked-open door. The demon witnessed his escape with unruffled poise.

"You know, you could have taken this silly little sword as a memento," he chuckled toward the vacant doorway. "It would've been better than nothing, after all. Particularly for a soft-skinned human with no armor…" He smirked, rolling his tongue to and fro behind his teeth. "Good luck, knight…"


	23. Bridging the Gap

_Place names are borrowed from the *Divine Comedy* and *Paradise Lost*._

_**Warning: **Mild (triggering?) sexual content._

_Enjoy!_

Chapter 23

Bridging the Gap

Another creepy hallway. It was even darker than the first.

And colder… much colder.

Staggering, Pipit put forth an intrepid effort, attempting to distance himself from the demon lord as much as he could. But, it was dim, and he was disorientated, confused about what had just taken place.

Was this nothing more than a dream?

He wasn't sure…

The circumstances hinted toward an unconscious state. He could still be laid out on his lavish hotel bed for all he knew.

But, for the pain…If it were not for the discomfort that had left him helpless in the demon's arms just a short time before, and for the sheer reality of Ghirahim's sword strikes, he could have easily sided with the theory of a dream.

However, could dreams truly invoke such sensation? Everything that he had felt in both mind and body had been vivid; too intense for a mere dream.

Many an opportunity to relive the horror had presented itself to Pipit in the past eleven years. Not surprisingly, his unguarded subconscious had gladly deliciated.

How many hours of his slumber had been taken up by a veracious replay of that first incident with Instructor Calwren? Dozens? No, more than that. Hundreds was more like it, although thousands could very well have been more fairly suited to accuracy. Countless nights his memories had burst through the floodgates, proving that daily suppression often led to unrelenting nightmares.

Pipit suspected that, tonight, yet another peace-stealing dream had befallen him. At the same time, this circumstance was worse than usual.

Never before had his dreams been visited by him - the demon.

Pipit's fingers combed through his dark hair. Somewhere between shambling and jogging, his feet faltered. As the toe of his leather boot caught the right-hand wall, he tripped, barely holding to his equilibrium. His shoulder met the coarse stone, abrading traces of wool from his sleeve.

With asperous steps, he came to a stop.

Did what just happened…really happen?

Finally free of his misery's facilitator, Pipit released his hold on the emotion that had been warring for the upper-hand. Pushing against the wall, he gripped his face.

Grief-stricken, he slid down the wall, catching streams of tears in his palms.

The scene in the deserted corridor was perfectly still and serenely quiet, aside from Pipit's jolting shoulders and sharp gasps. Shaking his head, he crumpled down, disbelieving, overcome…

He didn't feel right. He felt like a little boy, tossed inside the shell of one much larger than himself, a body that he could never hope to fill out; an older, more mature mass of flesh and blood that he didn't deserve to inhabit.

The demon's assertion that Pipit had never cried over his own troubled past had been correct. But, tonight, the young man's tearless streak met its demise.

He was racked with several minutes of voiceless sobs. His lungs tightened. His heart pounded and his throat ached. Pressing his face to the wall and dropping his hands, he sat, drawing shallow, almost useless breaths. He shut his eyes, sending more salty drops down his cheeks. Not bothering to wipe them away, they dripped off of his chin.

The demon's cruelty and ruthless taunting had been enough to render even the most stoic of persons broken.

The painful reenactment laid claim to much of Pipit's despair. Yet, the majority of his distress was due to something worse - an undeniable realization.

This manifestation of anguish came not only because the memories themselves were agonizing, or because acting them out was beyond unthinkable. No. A harsh truth had been thrown in Pipit's face – something that he had known all along but didn't want to admit, something that had followed him around like a specter, looming, waiting for that evanescent window of opportunity…

With a gulp and a hiccup, he slouched, gasping, in shock, not knowing what he was doing.

Lifting his shaking hands, he strained to see his left index finger. It was free of Ghirahim's grasp, yet it still burned with the remnants of something awful, and not at all unknown to him. He drove the side of his fist into the wall several times, attempting to destroy the evidence.

Unfortunately, it resided in his mind, as well. That particular flame would be much harder to snuff out.

Searching for his composure, Pipit sighed, fighting back a fresh bout of tears. He had to get up.

Seconds away from giving himself the push that he needed, he hesitated.

His ears twitched at the sound of feet strolling toward him from behind. With a stuffy head and foggy eyes, he aimed an ear to the sound.

A nearly unnoticeable swish could be detected.

A soft rustle, a sweeping breeze, a distinguished fragrance. Then, a hand settling on his shoulder. He didn't resist it. He simply dipped his head, turning just enough.

Silence winnowed the still air. Pipit inhaled, sensing a face over his shoulder.

"I knew you wouldn't get far," the demon whispered, a fusion of hot and cold teasing Pipit's delicate skin. His eyes closed and his body furled toward the voice. "Your shame wouldn't allow for it, now would it?"

Adroit fingertips found the tip of his ear, fondling it, teasing, trailing down to the silver loop. Pipit bit his lip.

"I thought you were letting me go…" Pipit said in a choked voice.

"Just kidding," the demon crooned, pressing his chest to Pipit's back, overtaking him from behind. "But, soon, sky knight, soon." Both of the demon's hands rested on him, caressing his shoulders. The touch sent chills down his spine. He gave a heavy, agitated sigh. His head rolled, bringing his face to the demon's.

"You don't really want to leave, do you, sky knight?" Pipit squirmed, struggling against the intrusive touch. "Your first lesson, so many years ago, ended much differently than this. As I recall, and I'm sure you do too…" The demon's voice was saturated with lust. It was so sensual, so absorbing… "You left the junior knight academy sparring hall completely breathless, did you not?" His hand dropped to grip the human's chest. "Not just breathless, but _throbbing_, pulsating in a way that had amazed and enthralled you, opening your eyes to something brand new. Something your virginal body had never experienced before."

Pipit didn't move.

"You know, sky knight…" Ghirahim nipped at the young man's ear, reaping a shiver from him. "There's something…_important_ that you might find fascinating about this instructor of yours…" In wonderment, Pipit gaped.

"What?" he rasped. "What do you mean?"

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know?" The demon chuckled. Pipit's face began to sizzle.

"Get off me!" he roared. Shaking loose the demon's grasp, he pushed off of the floor with his hands and feet, shooting forward. He had to get away, or he was doomed. But, with a regrettable two paces behind him, his enemy jumped ahead, latching a hand around his ankle. An exasperated cry flew from his mouth as he crashed to the floor, scrambling, scraping his fingernails against the stone. With the widest of smiles, the demon traveled up his frantic body, hand over hand, feeling its warmth, watching it fight, feasting on the sight and smell of its rising fear. Vapors the shade of his tunic swirled in the air, lighting up the dark.

Flattening the human to the floor with his bodyweight, Ghirahim pinned his once flailing wrists.

With the oxygen pilfered from his crushed lungs, Pipit tried to twist, endeavoring to ease the pressure on his chest.

"Why do you wage such a fierce battle against me, human?" the demon sang, squeezing Pipit's thrashing torso between his knees and rubbing his thumbs over his hands. "You should know by now that to injure you is not among my vested interests at the moment."

Furious, Pipit was almost unable to talk. The audacity, the unmitigated effrontery that it took to be this malicious was past the point of understanding. It was mindboggling.

This demon gave Instructor Calwren a run for his money in the 'impenetrable cruelty' department. The two certainly shared several perfidious characteristics.

No…Ghirahim was more treacherous than any man, including Calwren. Pipit's teacher might have given in to and acted upon his hunger for innocent flesh, but the demon thrived on embroiling a person in the inconceivable – a contained world of wretchedness. A place where old wounds were reopened, where ugly scars were uncovered, and where the dormant was needlessly enlivened.

And he did it just for kicks…

In fact, Pipit was so offended, so livid, and so distraught that his emotions began to shut down. Skewing, they transformed into something much different than what they rightly were. Self-preservation took the helm; a coping mechanism was put into play.

This villain's actions were so detestably nefarious and self-serving that it was, in a way, amusing.

Yes. Amusing. That's what it was. It was funny, after all, to be on your face in an unknown location, with a large, sadistic man sitting on you, overpowering you as if he was a bear subduing a field mouse.

It was hilarious, unquestionably, to be dragged away from a place of safety and thrown into a personal hell; to be at the mercy of someone who more than likely made wrongful, immoral conduct their designated way of life. Being made to believe that you had been set free, only to have that hope pulled out from under you like a rug, was practically hysterical.

So hysterical, actually, that Pipit just had to laugh. So, he did.

It was then that he knew why Link couldn't bear to confess the truth about this scoundrel, and what unspeakable things he had done.

The demon's eyes came down, aglow with curiosity.

"Something you'd like to share with the class, knight?" he asked. Judging by the sound of his voice, Pipit knew the ruffian was smiling. Making him wait, Pipit ignored his question. Arching his brow, Ghirahim let his grin fade. "Is something funny, human?"

With a suffocated chuckle and a smirk of his own, Pipit decided to speak up.

"Oh, a lot. A lot is funny," he fumed.

"Like?" the demon asked with unbridled enthusiasm.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Pipit mocked.

"Mm," Ghirahim droned, "watch that loose little tongue of yours, sky knight, or I'll put it to work in ways that would shame what you just did to that girl."

"You really wanna know what I find so funny?" Pipit asked, his forwardness grabbing his enemy's attention.

"You have sparked an exquisitive reaction in me, human." Ghirahim's tongue flipped assuredly.

"Well, first of all," Pipit began, laying a cheek to the floor, "I think it's pretty damn funny that no matter what you do, ever, you can never be the first to rape me." He held back a giggle. "'Cause it's already been _done_. A barrel of laughs, isn't it?"

"Uproarious," the demon calmly responded.

"Second, you probably think I'm scared shitless right now. But, I just realized something - I've survived it many times before. I'll survive it again."

"How brave of you."

"That's not all. Far from it. There's a whole laundry list of things I find amusing at the moment." Ghirahim frowned at Pipit's strident manner. "Most of all, I find the future scene of your horrific and gory death to be downright sidesplitting." Pipit set free a snicker. "Now _that_ will be a thing of beauty." A flash of annoyance crossed the demon's face.

"You are shortsighted, human. Not only that, but your statement drips with irony." With a deft twist, Pipit was flipped onto his back, straddled by the demon. Inhaling, he felt his wrists recaptured by forceful hands. "When all is said and done, human, _you_, along with so many others like you, will be the one sampling this thing called death." The torrent of passionate words flowed from the demon's mouth like daggers, both threatening and foreboding. "Not only will you sample it, but you will _savor_ it, thanking the Goddess that she has allowed it to take you, the only shield against the suffering that I will personally oversee."

"I don't believe anything that comes out of that vile mouth of yours," Pipit argued. The demon brought his sneer closer.

"What you believe matters _not_," he growled, grinding Pipit's spread arms into the floor.

"You really know how to fuck with people, don't you?" Pipit inveighed, observing the tip of the unsettling tongue before him. "You seem to have a flair for it. Trouble is, it's useless beyond just making people feel like crap." The pair's narrow eyes were deadlocked.

"Not as useless as one might suspect in his pitiably limited mind."

"What, you mean there's some underlying scheme at work here?" Pipit asked.

"I don't know," Ghirahim sighed, brushing their mouths. "What is your brilliant conjecture, knight?" His tongue slithered out, pushing Pipit's mouth open, tantalizing him. Less inhibited due to ire, he didn't fight it. "Stanch your words, human, and you might just _learn_ something."

With his own agenda urging him on, Pipit assented, allowing the demon access.

"Mmm!" Pipit mumbled, gagging at first. Holding nothing back, the demon continued restraining his body, pushing him down with fervor. Hacking straight through his pleasure center, Ghirahim's carnal energy filled him, replacing an unpleasant feeling with oblectation.

There was no denying it – from his head to his toes, Pipit was blanketed by a wonderful sensation, much stronger than even the most gratifying feeling he had experienced with his curly-haired lady friend earlier that evening.

"Mmmmygddsses," he moaned, curling beneath the demon.

_"Enjoying yourself, human?"_ The demon admired Pipit's astounded glare.

Blinking slowly, Pipit sensed a pleasurable withdrawal. His fingers grasped at the air. Ghirahim chuckled at his heavy breaths.

_"It's always more fun when you're angry, knight."_

With a tidal wave of pleasure washing over him, Pipit jerked, fighting against the demon's hold. He moaned again.

_"Thank you for keeping me up-to-date, human."_

_"Up-to-date? I thought you knew everything already…?"_

_"Most."_

_"Why did you bring me here?"_

_"You will find out in time."_

_"What?"_

_"Your old instructor is not who you think he is, dear boy."  
><em>

A sharp gasp pierced the quiet hall. Glaring, Pipit grew warmer. His anger rose. Pulling away, he freed his lips.

"What the hell does that mean?" His mouth was pursued once more. He flung his face to the side. "Is that why you brought me here?" In one rapid movement, the demon crossed Pipit's wrists over his head, pinning them single-handedly. His other hand came down to clutch his face. Pipit gritted his teeth and pulled. Furious that the demon so adored feeding him just enough information to kindle his curiosity, yet not enough to tell him anything, he slammed his feet to the ground, pushing up.

He knew that Ghirahim was about to join with him again, and that he was powerless to stop it. Fed up with battling his foe's unequaled strength and esoteric speech, he dug his heels in, determined to go down in a blaze of glory.

"Something along those lines, sky knight."

With zeal, Ghirahim came upon him.

_"There's more to it than just some need to indulge an arcane desire, isn't there?"_

Having trouble focusing through the pleasance that was spreading through his body, Pipit silently demanded an answer from the demon.

_"Correct, human."_

Pain penetrated Pipit's wrists as Ghirahim tightened his grip. The young man willed the ache away. Concentrating hard, his eyes drilled into the demon's. He pictured a blank slate; it was without end, filling his mind with its perfect, untarnished surface. He didn't let it out of his sight.

To Ghirahim's amazement, the human was not only submitting to him, but was beginning to return his affections, as well. Lifting a brow, the demon grinned, his mouth full of the sweet flavor.

_"Turning the tables, are we?"_

Pipit just stared, his face showing the inevitable side-effects of the contact. Forcing his head from the floor, Pipit tried to dig as deeply into the demon's mouth as he could. His eyes fluttered as the sensation increased. Breathing heavily, he groaned.

Rubbing his neck, Ghirahim knew that it wouldn't be long for this puny human. This was going to be highly entertaining.

_"How singular you are… So different from your little friend in green… So subservient…"_

Having already learned that the human liked it rough, Ghirahim rewarded him with a firm wrist squeeze, a tug on his earring and a sharp bite on his lip. Before Pipit could utter a word, his mouth was claimed once more.

_"Still think you are in the midst of a woolgathering hallucination, my noble knight?"_

Pipit moaned in response, shaking his head and shoving further into his adversary's mouth. Tickled by the human's accedence – and how unproblematic this mission had turned out to be – the demon played with him. Removing his mouth, he hovered just out of reach, grinning at Pipit's impassioned attempt to regain the pleasure that he was so obviously desperate for.

"I must say, this is unexpected, knight," Ghirahim voiced lustfully, "but fun." He watched Pipit's chest heave before coming back to his parted lips.

Several times, the demon lowered his head, drew Pipit's mouth like a magnet, and then retracted. He leered, relishing in the incontestable dominance.

"Enjoying your bonds, human?" Biting the inside of his cheek, Pipit nodded, bringing about another snigger from the demon. He adjusted his seat atop Pipit's lower half, purposely jarring him in his most sensitive areas. Pipit tried to keep a straight face, but the demon could feel the truth.

Beaming, Ghirahim asked one of his favorite questions.

"Is there something you need, human?"

"Yes," Pipit answered without even a hint of uncertainty.

"Go on, then." The demon's eyes burned with a terrifying intensity. Something inexplicable was beginning to emerge, to show itself to the young man. He swallowed a lump of worry. His imprisoned fingers wriggled.

"I want more," Pipit requested.

"Are you begging, sky knight?" The demon's heart was nearly bursting with rainbows. "What, may I ask, is the magic word?"

Pipit took a breath.

"Please?" he asked. After nodding, the demon hesitated, luxuriating in the exquisiteness of the plea.

Like a hot liquid, his power cascaded over the receptive human, prolapsing into his mouth, the birthplace of such captivating words. As expected, the young man made a pleasantly erotic sound, demonstrative of his intemperate need.

Helpless in body but not in mind, Pipit knitted his eyes shut and concentrated. He opened his mind's eye, an unnoticeable gesture to an enchanted demon. His mouth invited the demon's tongue in deeper, beckoning it.

Pipit's attentiveness was a flight risk. He clutched it with all of his strength.

Abstract images and blurred ideas floated before him in a river of mist.

He saw an enormous being with hair aflame… A blue, sylphlike spirit… The beginnings of an engrossing tale that told of long ago…

Then, he saw it; what he unequivocally had to know the moment that the demon had mentioned it.

The missing link to the mystery behind his and Calwren's strange relationship.

Fragmented details and snippets of secrets seeped into his mind.

In that moment, his bafflement matched that of the demon's. Still connected, the two bore into one another. Realizing what was happening, Ghirahim wasted no time in withdrawing himself.

But Pipit had no intention of leaving his task unfinished.

With arms still bound, he curled up, sucking the demon in further. He bit down on the dark tongue that was already halfway down his throat.

Jumping, Ghirahim grabbed Pipit around the face, shocked by the sudden sting. Pipit sunk his teeth in deeper.

More facts, incomplete but vibrant, trickled from one overexcited mind to the other.

Appalled, the demon obstructed Pipit's nose in the hope that he would relent.

But, like a vice, he clamped down even more, breathing through his teeth as though he was ascending a mountain.

Every second, more information was passed as Pipit infiltrated the barrier.

However, the deepening connection lifted the sensation to such a height that he was beginning to spiral out of control. Still, he slogged onward, taking whatever he could from the demon as fast as he could do it.

The gritty power struggle continued as Ghirahim released Pipit's hands to scrape at his eyes. Crushing the squirming muscle, Pipit flipped his head away, dragging the demon with him.

With the awkward position limiting his movements, Ghirahim snarled, wrapping his pale fingers around the human's throat. Repelling an urge to panic, Pipit held fast to his determination, not budging…so long as he didn't have to breathe.

Squeezing tighter and tighter, Ghirahim poured dark power like molten lava, bringing Pipit's stubborn enterprise to a close.

"Ah!" Pipit gasped, breaking away as the demon loosened his hands. Ghirahim's spent tongue retreated into its hiding place. Taken aback, he stared at the restless human, exploring his face. Luckily, his own efforts had successfully stolen his control.

Somewhat impressed by the human's suppression and willpower, the demon observed quietly as his body thrust itself up. He bounced the large frame of his enemy in one short-lived moment of pleasure.

Watching these silly humans succumb in weakness never seemed to get old.

And this human had been rather sly, demonstrating a crafty side that the demon hadn't expected. It was titillating.

With a racing pulse and a moaning cry, Pipit wrung the demon's red cloak and squeezed his eyes shut, reaching an amazing but unwanted climax. A momentary paralysis seized him. Sweat dribbled down his hot forehead. He rocked his head back and forth, feeling the demon's stroke on his neck. He hated being made a spectacle of, but he couldn't stop it.

Still out of breath and dealing with the vibrations that were rolling through him, Pipit flipped, army crawled out from under the demon, pushed to his feet and started running. A little smile stuck to Ghirahim's face as he watched his plaything escape. It was a shame to allow a guaranteed evening of sinful fun to just get up and walk away, but he had no other choice.

"You're not worthy of her, sky knight!" he shouted. The words echoed along the hall. He heard Pipit's footsteps diminish into the dim stairwell.

The demon sat back, contemplating the possible consequences of divulging what technically was classified information.

He shrugged, unworried. The human had filched nothing more than a few stray bits and pieces of his knowledge – factoids. Nothing to be concerned about.

Besides, his little hero friend would undoubtedly be studying up on all issues relevant to the spirit maiden soon enough, anyway, with the help of his little witch, of course. And, most importantly, his task was complete, lock, stock and barrel. This human was infected, just like the other.

He shrugged again.

"And you never will be, knight…"

…

With no reason to look back, Pipit's feet pounded the stone. As he followed the winding stair, he encouraged himself. No one else was going to do it.

"Goddess, give me the strength to stay on my feet…" He forced his way through the darkness, ready to welcome whatever it was that lay ahead; anything was an improvement over him. "Please don't let me collapse and start crying again like a little girl…" He sighed, scoffing. "Good gods, this is insane."

At the end of the coiling stairs, he stopped short.

"Holy…" It was dark, but there was just enough torchlight to illuminate the room that stretched out before him.

An amazing sight: a towering barrel vault roof, coated in hundreds of square feet of paintings – a death-defying testament to the courageousness of some very fine artists, most definitely.

The enormous dormers, responsible for imparting the weak light of a shrouded sun into the gallery by day, offered no help to the lost knight as he shuffled along.

Two rows of limestone pillars connected the vast floor to the ceiling. Like tall, cylindrical ghosts, they summoned him, marking his unforeseen path to the doorway. Glancing from right to left, he kept a close watch on his surroundings, making sure that the coast was clear.

This place was quiet. Too quiet…And huge. Anything could be lurking here…

He could be lurking here, prowling about like the creeper that he was. Pipit rolled his eyes.

"You let me go twice now," he whispered. "You gonna come and get me again?" He surveyed the hall. "Wouldn't be the least bit surprising." He passed by another pillar. "I still don't even know if any of this is real…"

Pipit grimaced, inaudibly cursing the uncomfortable, mucky feeling inside of his shorts.

"Well, that's cringe-worthy enough to be real, alright," he whined, shaking his head. "Gods…how the hell did that even happen…? That's just…_wrong_."

Pulling at the linen that was clinging to him in the worst way possible, he thought about what he had learned from the demon. It was too crazy to be true.

"Never even knew demons were real 'til this loopy bastard came along," he murmured. "This is just-"

A skitter from across the expansive room made him jump. Planting his feet, he reached his left arm behind his back, grabbing at nothing. Panting, he squinted, waiting for a shadow to materialize. But, nothing showed.

"Ah, that's right," he mumbled, dropping his hand. He started walking again. "I came here unarmed, and unarmored. Great." He picked up his pace. "Doesn't get much better than that…" His eyes flashed with the golden glow of the wall torches. Guided to the northwestern corner of the room, he spotted a heavy wooden door. However, curiosity tugged his gaze to the right.

A doorway, much larger than the passage to the outside, took up a substantial portion of the wall by the corner. A predominantly red hue presented itself beyond the archway.

Oddly drawn to the adjacent room, Pipit crept toward it. Poking his head through, he looked from side to side, viewing an extensive hallway. Rich, crimson wall-to-wall carpeting blanketed the floors. Dozens of evenly spaced wall torches burned. Turning to the left, he caught sight of a grand staircase that led to a mezzanine, similar to the one in the Crown Plaza.

This place smelled a lot like…him.

Pipit's face soured. He backed up, retracing the way to the exit.

It wasn't a bad smell, per se…It was sort of musky, maybe a little bit sweet with a hint of earthiness…Redolent in the way that it stirred up old memories.

Pipit flinched, catching himself in the act of contemplating the demon's odiferousness.

"Wow…" he chuckled, about to smack himself. "Pipit, you do know it's rude to think about a person's captivating aroma until after the third date, right?" With a soft creak, the heavy door gave way to the night. "Maybe the nutty professor is right…I do sort of talk to myself a lot. Especially in second-person." He pulled the door shut with a click, not wanting to be rude, even if this was a dream. "What was his name again…?"

Stepping lively, Pipit took a narrow set of stairs to the top of a dusty courtyard. The sky was blank, the trees were twisted, and the air was abuzz with a melody of unrecognizable insects. He took a moment to reflect, forming an articulate assessment.

"Weird…" he concluded. "Anyway, Hirageem? No, that wasn't it. Garahee…No…Damn. Well, it was 'Demon Lord _Something'_."

Wondering where the moon was, Pipit marched toward a slim opening in the curtain wall that surrounded the enclosure. A bastion, modest and proud, jutted from the middle of the wall in front of him. With no gatehouse in sight, he surmised that he had entered the rear outer ward, if he was dreaming of a proper castle, anyway.

He started to laugh, almost snorting at the recent goings-on between him and the demon. Some things were so terrible that to find the iota of humor in them seemed the only sanity-saving option.

"Is there something you _neeeed_, human?" Pipit mimicked in his finest demon lord voice, copying that unusual, suave accent. "Yes, there is," he answered himself. "I need to be punched repeatedly in the face until I wake up from the worst wet dream in the known universe."

Rubbing his eyes, he exited the bailey. He found himself navigating a long set of stairs that sidled down a huge, steep motte. The mound was massive, requiring three minutes of brisk walking to traverse. His boots smacked into the smooth stone, letting off a sound that seemed too authentic to be imaginary.

"This is one tiring dream," Pipit complained, huffing. "Don't think I've ever been this tired while sleeping before…"

Standing at the foot of the hill that he had descended, Pipit turned, viewing the magnificent structure in all of its regalness. He was reminded of some of the more impressive buildings in Superna. The architects had gone all out, designing each edifice with realism in mind. Rising turrets and curving battlements, expertly fitted with arrow loops, were a common sight. The honoring of tradition and attention to detail greatly complimented the state's long established sense of discipline.

Picturing the innovative structure of the city, the image of his hotel came to mind. He thought about his bed, and the satiny sheets that he had fallen asleep on; the ones that now covered the body of a certain young woman…

"You really think I used her?" he asked, leaving the castle behind. A dirt road, several-hundred feet beyond a wide open field of shortgrass, became his next target. "Well, shows how much _you_ know…"

Pipit stepped charily, heedful of the many chuckholes that marred the extensive, slender plain beside the road. This place was a minefield for someone lost, alone, and on foot.

"I think we used each other, at least a little bit," he confessed to his boots. "Pretty sure she doesn't know my name, either." He glanced around, feeling exposed out in the open. "A guy interested only in himself doesn't execute a carefully constructed 'for-her-pleasure-only' grand finale like that, either. My tongue is still half numb. _In your face_, Mister Reemaheem."

Pipit couldn't scoff enough over the demon's bizarre interests. This love play of his was something else. Of course, it wasn't about a true sort of love; it was about the love of mental torture.

"Dude, BDSM has its place…but it is not with you." He let his overworked tongue dangle in disgust. "Then again, it wasn't with Calwren, either…And a whole mess of good it did me to try and avoid _that_, so…"

The surface beneath Pipit's feet went from springy to firm as field turned to road.

"Maybe I'm the one who needs therapy," he mumbled, recalling what he had said to Link during their flight to the Skyloftian army base. "I'd probably end up with 'logomaniac' as my therapist, though. I'd bet anything I would. 'Something you need, human? Don't let my roaming hands be a distraction, now…'"

The presence of faint light combined with the absence of an illuminated celestial body puzzled him. This place was much darker than even the darkest nights he had experienced on the surface, in hot pursuit of his best friend. Here, the light was almost nonexistent, yet, it was there, nonetheless.

It was as though a wraithlike version of the moon was hovering above his head, hidden somewhere in the sky. Its light was visible, yet ill disposed.

Eventually, Pipit's grievance yielded to an awed hush. The dirt road overlooked an endless, arid plain, its horizon painted with a ceaseless chain of highlands and peaks. He had no idea how he was able to see that far into the distance. This place was inexplicable.

A road sign slowly came into view. He brought his speed up a notch.

He looked down, noticing that another road had appeared, intersecting the one that he was on. He stopped in the middle of the four-way to study the multi-directional sign. He looked first at what the sign had to say about the direction that he had come from.

"Pentapolis…Five-hundred miles," he read. "Hm. Guess I'm not going there." His eyes lowered. "Palace of Light: four-hundred-thirty miles. Not going there, either. Acholos, Thermidor…both over two-hundred miles…" He straightened up. "Why do these names sound familiar?" He craned his neck to read the part of the sign that pointed out into the wilderness. "Plain of Caina." He glanced at the never ending blackness. "Definitely not going there." Thought-provoking names such as Ruins of Forcatha, Doloroth, Erebus, Antenora, Watchtower Malacoda and Azotus caught his eye. "Burning Sands? Woods of Suicides? Sounds lovely…"

He lifted a pointed ear into the air.

"I think I might be able to hear River Phlegethon…It's pretty far, though." He switched his eyes to the opposite side of the sign, the portion that urged travelers to turn right, to veer off of the main road. "River Acheron: two miles. Maybe that's what I'm hearing." He read on. "Plain of Antenora, Pit of Abaddon, Tartarus, Great Columns…Gods, these things _really_ sound familiar." Brushing it off, he looked at the fourth part of the sign. It pointed straight ahead. "Acheron Woods: two miles. Well, that doesn't sound helpful…Town of Acheron: three miles." He gave a contented nod. "Much better. Acheron or bust."

Cracking his knuckles and adjusting his collar, Pipit crossed the intersection, carrying a newly formed mental map in his head. "Not that I know who or what is waiting for me there."

With a destination decided on, Pipit charged headlong into the night. Running now, he flickered his eyelids, chasing the languidness away. He did his best to ignore the disagreeable coldness that was clinging to him.

His thoughts raced along with his feet. He thought about Link, and what might have happened to him during their time apart. He considered the three days that he and Midna had gotten to know each other a bit better while Link was on the surface. He tried to come up with an explanation for the mysterious power that she had displayed before the demon lord in the temple. Whatever it was, it had commanded his respect in a rather extraordinary way. Thank the Goddess she showed up when she did…Pipit had been sure that he and his best friend were about to be forced into something unbelievably awful.

And Zelda...Why did the jerk have to bring up the Lumpy Pumpkin incident? It wasn't like Pipit had planned to entertain such dirty thoughts about the pretty little blonde, especially while he was with that other gorgeous lady…whatever her name was.

Matching his breathing to his rhythmic stride, Pipit's face edged somewhere between skeptical and cynical.

"It'll probably never work…" he panted. "She's not even my type, and I'm sure as hell not hers…" He pursed his lips. "What does she see in me, anyway?"

After five minutes of running, the sparsely laid trees started to thicken, closing in on him from both sides. The lambency of the approaching town swelled out of the dreary landscape like an aureole. Flashing through the gaps in the warped trees, it seemed so inviting…

Suddenly, a shrill howl rang out from the depths of the forest.

Looking to the right, Pipit pushed his legs even harder.

"What the hell was that?" he cried. He quickly began to regret the estimated two miles between him and the town.

Another piercing sound rose out of the hinterlands, making Pipit's blood curdle.

"What is _out_ there?" he wondered, panning the land over and over again.

A clamor, panicked and wild hurtled through the trees. Every inch covered by the knight brought the raucous closer. He stared at the ground, feeling an unmistakable juddering, amazed.

Something big was coming…

Up ahead, a tight assemblage of bushes by the roadside convulsed. A nearby tree wagged and swayed, bringing with it another terrifying shriek. Pipit slid to a stop.

The shadow of something menacing exited from the woods. Bright green eyes glared in his direction.

Shrinking back, Pipit sidestepped before diving behind a nearby tree. Crouching in the dirt, he pressed his back to the trunk. He peeped out from the vegetation.

Breathing heavily, he sat completely still, hoping that the creature hadn't spotted him on the road.

The ground shook once more, but this time, with a deep rumble that sent a tremor through Pipit's feet. He set his hands onto the tree, leaning forward to gain a better view.

The massive creature crossed the road and disappeared into the trees before bursting out again.

Frozen, Pipit witnessed the unnamed monster as it pounded toward him. He held his breath, confused. The creature was scampering, limping, perhaps running from something.

In time with the thudding of feet, Pipit heard the clinking of bones and the popping of joints. As the creature neared, he couldn't quite believe what he saw – this monstrosity had almost no flesh on its noisy frame.

Then, he learned that the ferocious looking beast was not alone.

Shooting out from the same area that the first creature had escaped from was another beast, just as imposing as the first, but bigger. Unlike what it seemed to be chasing, this creature was taller, with long, thin legs and a thick body. With grace it accelerated to a gallop, its hooves digging into the ground as it zipped along.

With a four-beat gait as fluent as the wind, the animal narrowed the space between itself and its mark.

Just when Pipit had decided that unhappy chance had caused an ordinary chase between predator and prey to fall into his lap, an unexpected sight proved him wrong.

Just as a loftwing would often escort its beloved human, this long-legged beast was carrying someone. A person, presumably.

A chorus of hoof beats, crackling, and excited breathing filled the area. Pipit didn't move as the emaciated creature lumbered past him. After turning to gape, he looked back at the possible-human and his animal companion.

Sparing no celerity, they charged forth. In tune with the rocking strides of the beast, the person moved smoothly.

"Hyah!" a commanding voice called over the boisterousness. Pipit's eyebrows came up.

"A woman…" he mouthed.

As she neared Pipit's position, more details made themselves clear.

In a flash, her left hand shot up to grab the upper limb of a bow, slung over her shoulder and across her back from left to right. In a single movement, she twirled the bow, grasping the hand grip and retrieving an arrow from the quiver which was strung beside where the bow had been a moment before.

Pipit watched as the woman, with pin-straight form, drew an arrow to her ear, bending the limbs of her bow.

Bypassing every obstacle that would surely foil an unskilled shooter, the woman aimed, shot, and struck the fumbling creature, impaling its hind leg. A pained yelp and a whimper cracked the air as it nearly fell, continuing its escape with waning steps.

Whizzing past where Pipit was hiding, the hunter quickly caught the poor creature, running alongside it with ease. Slinging her bow over her left shoulder, she jumped from the back of her tall companion, her arms waving in circles as she soared. With a crazed shout, she landed on the injured creature, stopping it in its tracks. Pipit popped up, dying for a better look at the action.

Clinging to the back of her prey, the woman wrapped her arms around its neck, choking it. It jerked and sputtered, refusing to fall.

But, it eventually toppled, rolling along the road with its enemy stuck to its back, kicking up a cloud of dust. Pipit scraped nervously at the brittle tree bark, wondering which of the two was going to die. His knightly instincts ordered him to intervene, but something warned him against it. This woman knew what she was doing, dodging the crushing weight of the bag of bones before her, and evading its snapping, toothy jaws…

The battle seemed to go on forever. It was exhausting to watch. Pipit was astonished that this person was still alive.

At last, the brawl wound down. With the hideous creature laid out, the woman kneeled beside it, laying her hands on its head. Pipit noticed a decrease in the creature's movements. The woman's actions had ceased, as well.

Several seconds of unnatural silence filled the rift in the forest. Pipit gawked, as still as stone.

Then, the silence was suddenly shattered. A bloodcurdling war cry exploded from the woman's mouth as energy blasted from her hands, gushing into the helpless creature, tearing it apart from the inside out. The sound was otherworldly as the flesh, bone and fur burst outward, shaking the ground and leaving the woman with the remains of an ill-fated beast. Too wowed to look away, Pipit was at a loss for words.

The gruesome scene ended as quickly as it had started. As far as he was concerned, a dream was the only possible explanation for what had just happened.

He couldn't remove his eyes from the woman as she sat, stooped over the proof of her victory, breathing as though she was oxygen-deprived.

After a short time, she brushed herself off, plucked a small bone fragment from the ground and stood to her full height. Studying what he could see of her, Pipit observed a tall, slim frame. Her hair fell past her shoulders, but the darkness obscured the color.

"Hmm…" he hummed.

All of a sudden, the woman turned, sending a solid gaze straight toward her secret admirer.

Pipit gasped, dropping to his rear end and skittering behind a bush, scraping himself along a mass of thorns as he did so; but, he didn't care. He'd rather deal with a prickly bush than someone with superhuman strength, able to tear an animal asunder with bare hands. Her bow and arrows were still sitting neatly on her back, for goodness' sake…

His back, on the other hand, was lacking the scabbard that should have been holding a sword.

How she had even learned of his presence, he had no clue.

En route toward his location, the woman stepped cautiously, dipping momentarily out of sight as she left the road and entered the underbrush.

Fanning her fingers, she looked to the right, and then to the left. No one. She took another step. Her eyes dropped to where the concealed spectator had sat moments before.

Her head came up. She shimmied forward.

She whipped her bow off of her body, still looking around. Reaching her right arm back, she grabbed for an arrow…

"Don't," Pipit advised as his right arm encircled her chest. She stiffened as his body pressed to her back. He thrust a small knife to her throat. Taller by a few inches, he looked down over her shoulder. "I'll kill you even if you're hot. Don't think I won't." She stared ahead.

"Who are you?" she asked, tilting her head. Her smooth, feminine voice was arresting.

"You first," Pipit demanded, tightening around her.

"Are you CS or resistance?"

"Huh?" He paused. "Neither one."

"The only ones who are neither one are wanderers."

"I guess you could call me that," he told her.

"Okay, well…" She sighed. "In that case, I'm not your enemy. You can let me go."

"Oh, really? How do I know I won't be shredded to bits like that pitiful _thing_ you just took down?"

"Oh…" She gave a little laugh. "I was merely ridding my camp of a rather insidious terror. That _thing_ that you just saw was guilty of injuring several of my men. With no protection beyond ourselves, we look out for each other. Know what I mean?"

"How did you do that, anyway?" The woman grinned at the curiousness of his tone.

"It's a special skill held only by a few," she explained. "It's something that can only be passed on from a carrier to a recipient. It doesn't happen often…" She turned her face closer to the tall foreigner. "It has the potential to…consume lesser men."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that it's a monstrous power that must be handled very delicately. It's not for everyone." She lifted her eyes. "I am the sole carrier in my group, for now. That's the only reason why a captain is out here in the boondocks…In the middle of the night, I might add."

"Um…" Pipit started, still unsure. "How did you know I was here?"

"I caught a glimpse of your fear before the energy faded." Pipit didn't say anything. "So, you're definitely not CS?"

"I don't even know what that is," he admitted.

"It stands for 'collusion'. It's a general term we use to classify anyone against the resistance – what I am a part of."

"The resistance? What are you resisting?"

"You mean, besides the blade that's practically mangling my neck? Withdraw it, and maybe I'll tell you." Hesitating for a moment, Pipit let the knife drop. He ran his thumb along the grip, grateful that he had stashed it in his boot before leaving Skyloft, but regretting that he hadn't remembered it until now. It might have served him well against the demon.

Even with his blade in hand, Pipit knew that he was taking a chance. No matter what this woman said, she was still a stranger. A fully armed stranger whose fighting skills were frightening.

"Put your bow down," Pipit said before she had a chance to turn. She glanced behind her.

"Put your knife down." She waited.

"I'll put it out of my reach. Okay?" As she nodded, he bent down, placing the thin blade into a pocket inside of his left shoe. By the time he had straightened up, her bow and quiver were at her feet.

With both weapons down, the tension dissolved. Somewhat.

Then, the woman turned.

Despite the heavy darkness, Pipit no longer had any trouble seeing her. When he finally looked at her, he felt as though he'd been rabbit punched.

Her chin was low and her eyes were piercing as she stared at him. Her fingers waggled as they had when he had waited for her behind the bush.

She stood only two feet from him, licking her bottom lip. What a luscious lip it was, too…

Pipit blinked the distraction away. Then, another eye-catching feature bombarded him.

Her hair. It was curly, sleek, and very, very dark. So dark that it appeared black. As black as a midnight sky.

"What's your name?" Pipit asked, feeling a bit awestruck by the close up view. It was unforeseen…especially her striking green eyes. The corner that connected her plump lips lifted in subtle yet unmasked amusement.

"You first, knight," she returned, her gaze traveling from his feet to his head. She inched closer. "I recognize your tunic. I've seen it before. And your accent…I've heard it before."

"Uh, P-" he stammered, gathering the various parts of his mouth together. "Sorry, I think my entire face went a little numb for a second there." He grinned and shrugged. "Pipit." Looking at the forest floor, she moved closer. They were already pretty close to begin with… "And your name?"

"Lilith," she answered.

"Ah, okay, Lilith…Have we met before?" Bridging the gap between them, she brought their bodies together.

"Do you really have to ask?" She raised her face to his. "Am I truly so forgettable?" Her hand made its way to her neck. It trailed down slowly, sensually, while her thickset eyelashes paraded about.

"Forgettable? Pssssh, noooo," he said with a nervous grin.

"Well, I know we haven't met, even if you don't. Because, I know I would've remembered you." With assertiveness, she took his hand, running a fingernail across his palm. Swallowing a mouthful of air, he winced.

"Oh, well, thanks…" With a light tug, she closed the space, pulling him into an unanticipated kiss.

"Mmm!" Pipit exclaimed before fleeing the lock of her lips. "Is that the standard greeting around here or something?" Her face radiated innocence.

"For me, at times. But, only when I want it to be." She towed him down, going for round two.

"Whoa, hang on." He retreated a bit.

"Problem?" Her sincerity floored him.

"Yes, I have a problem," he said. "I'm feeling exceptionally used tonight, actually, by people I don't even know." She nodded. "And I don't get what you're trying to do."

"It's a test," she explained. "My test. I wanted to see what you'd do."

"Test? Did I pass…?" She giggled.

"Well, you don't want me to touch you, so I'd say yes, you pass."

"Phew, well, that's good," Pipit breathed. "But, honestly, it has more to do with, uh…" He held his hands out.

"What?" Lilith asked.

"I'm a mess…"

"You what?" She cocked her head.

"How can I put this nicely?" He scratched his head. "I jizzed all over myself…" He immediately grimaced at the distastefulness of his words. She shook her head and laughed.

"Hm, well, how very colloquial of you to say…" She crossed her arms and gave him the eye.

"Yeah, I've been told that euphemisms are not my strong suit," he said.

"I appreciate your honesty, though. Are you saying it just happened? Like now?" Flustered, Pipit couldn't separate the candor from the sarcasm.

"Gods, no…Maybe a half-hour ago, I'm not sure…" She leaned forward.

"May I ask what you were doing a half-hour ago?" Her grin fluctuated as she tried to keep her laughter under control.

"Uuuum…" Pipit looked away.

"It's okay, I'm just screwing with you," Lilith declared. "I get it. You don't need to explain."

"You get it?" He bit his tongue.

"Yes. I'm eighty-years-old. I've lived here my whole life, and I've become privy to the ways of the powers that be."

"You're _what_-years-old?" Pipit took the opportunity to give her a very thorough once-over. She lifted a gloved hand, temporarily dismissing his question.

"You're a knight. In the realm of demons. That in itself brings the would-be guessing game to a screeching halt before it even has a chance to take off. You probably didn't even know where you were until I said that, did you?" One brow rose as the other sloped over her sparkling emerald eye.

"No," he said quietly, barely registering the revelation.

"Right." She pulled her hands behind her back. "A lost human, in this realm, roving around the woods not even two miles from the abode of a certain _someone_…" She rocked on her toes. Pipit suddenly looked worried.

"Well…" His mouth kept moving, but nothing came out.

"So, where did you come from, mister knight?"

"Hey, quit teasing…" Pipit said, pouting. "I feel crappy enough as it is."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bruise your fragile ego."

"I just wanted information. That's the only reason it went as far as it did."

"You mean, with Lord Ghirahim?" Pipit tossed an arm in the air.

"Gah! That's the flagrant criminal's name! Thank you."

"So, what happened?"

"Well, I put two and two together. I knew that he could read my thoughts by shoving that god-awful tongue down my throat, so, I cleared my mind so he wouldn't catch wind of my plan. I figured I could use his power to my advantage, if I did it right." His eyes drifted for a moment. "I must've done something correctly, 'cause I got what I was looking for." Lilith's face lit up.

"What was that?" she asked. Pipit met her gaze once more.

"Actually, uh…I was really hoping to get out of these woods, to this place called Acheron…'Cause I'm trying to get back home, so…"

"Acheron…" Lilith whispered thoughtfully. "While you might find someone there who's kind enough to assist an outsider, I'd say you're better off with me." Beside her sassy grin, a tiny dimple appeared.

"You're gonna help me?" His doubt in her credibility was unmistakable.

"Of course."

They looked at each other for a few moments, sizing each other up and contemplating.

Pipit filled his lungs with warm, dry forest air, thinking that the person before him was one of the most gorgeous things he had ever come across. Lilith did the same.

With the threat of an ominous night nipping at his heels, Pipit reached an undeniable conclusion: he needed this woman's help. This odd, puzzling and slightly devilish woman…Yes, he needed her help.

"As long as we can chat on the ride back to my camp." She smiled expectantly.

"You're inscrutable, did you know that?" Pipit asked with a chuckle.

"Am I?" she quipped, scrunching her nose.

"How about I carry your weapon for you?" he proposed, scooping her items into his arms.

"If you promise not to murder me with my own arrows."

"Ha," he replied. "As the Goddess is my witness, I swear that I couldn't shoot one of these arrows to save my life."

"Seriously?" With one eye stuck to him, she led the way to the road.

"Yes. The last time these hands held a bow and arrow was probably four years ago, on a hunting trip in a heavily wooded section of the North Province in Skyloft. Needless to say, the only one that ended up injured was _me_. I somehow managed to send the arrow in the direction _opposite_ to where arrows are _supposed_ to go…" Lilith gave a sympathetic giggle.

"Ah, you caught fledging in the face, eh?"

"Very much," Pipit replied.

"You probably didn't nock the arrow right. That's normally all it is. I could teach you how to do it."

"Oh, yeah?" He stayed close behind her. "That's awful chummy for someone who doesn't know me at all."

"Well, I like you," she said. Rotating her head, she placed two fingers in her mouth and whistled.

"But, if you help me overcome my coordination issues then this priceless ability of mine to sustain head injuries will be tragically lost. We can't have that, it's my party piece." The pair listened to the clip-clop of approaching hooves.

"Accident prone?"

"In certain circumstances." In an instant, Pipit's focus was diverted. A gigantic animal had joined them, slipping through the darkness. With an enamored sigh and a nuzzle of her nose, Lilith reached for the thin strip of leather that hung from the creature's muscular neck.

"Pipit, meet Astaroth." She rubbed the whiskery muzzle before her. A hot snort hit her cheek.

"Hi, Astaroth," Pipit said cordially. The animal nickered in response. "I've heard stories about these herbivores, mostly in the ancient texts. Man, I never thought I'd see one in the flesh…"

"A horse?" Lilith brushed a chunk of coarse auburn mane aside, revealing an intelligent caramel eye. A starkly white blaze spilled down Astaroth's chestnut face. "Nothing compares. Nothing."

She laid her forehead against his jowl, stroking its velvety softness and whispering sweet nothings to him. Like any male with half a brain, he sucked up the love. "He's the most beautiful colt you'll ever see."

"I don't mean to interrupt your make out session," Pipit said, "but, um, where are we going and how are we gonna get there?"

"So raring to go. That's one characteristic I have no problem holding in high regard. I adore an adventure." Her sultry tone mixed with the keen glimmer in her eyes made Pipit want to drool, but he refrained. "Let's hop on. I can be the first to show you the ropes of horseback riding." She shuffled to the colt's left side, gesturing for Pipit to follow. "I was in such a rush to pursue that stalhound that I didn't bother to tack up before leaving. I was caught up in the heat of the moment." She laughed at herself. "Just as well. It makes for easier tandem riding."

Like a fish gliding through water, Lilith hopped onto her horse's back, using a tuft of mane for leverage. She lowered a hand to Pipit. He looked around.

"Is this a good idea?" he asked. "Personally, I see myself plunging to a horrible death, here…"

"Don't be a baby," she joked. "I know he's no loftwing, but don't worry. I'm gonna help you."

"You know about loftwings?"

"Of course. It's how you sky-dwellers get around. An inferior method compared to the grandness of a horse, for sure…"

"Uh huh," he murmured. Giving in, he took the woman's open hand. With bewildering strength, she hoisted the young man up, sliding him into place.

"Wow," he noted. "You must work out."

"My life is a workout, knight." She slung her bow and arrow over her shoulder once more. She grabbed the reins, placing one in each hand. Astaroth tossed his head, anticipating what was to come. He pranced in place, earning a flinch from Pipit.

"There's that eager spirit you mentioned…" he said tensely.

"Don't worry," she repeated. She clicked her tongue, gently urging the horse into a walk.

"So, this camp of yours. Who occupies it?" Pipit asked.

"Oh, about seventy-five people."

"Any guys?" He drummed his fingers on his knees.

"Of course. Were you hoping for an all-woman camp?" She smirked.

"Actually, uh…" He rubbed his neck. "You think I can borrow some shorts from somebody? 'Cause…for real…" Lilith had to laugh.

"I'm sure something can be arranged!"

Veering left toward the Plain of Caina, the trio entered the northwestern corner of the Acheron Woods. Lilith expounded the importance of staying out of sight. Utilizing the protective properties of the landscape was always worth doing, even if it resulted in a roundabout trip; especially for a resistance fighter.

The resistance and what it entailed was the first subject in Pipit's long line of questioning. Who or what were they trying to impede? How many fighters existed altogether? Who were they? How long had they been living the lives of rebels? What were they ultimately trying to achieve? Lilith provided answers to every one of his inquiries.

"We oppose the war, plain and simple," Lilith said, steering her horse through a grove of knarred, white birch trees. Pipit looked around the arborous graveyard. "There's no complicated premise, no abstruse basis or profound principals. We consider ourselves eternally pitted against our king, and the lofty goal that he aspires for. The demon king is considered divine. I'm sure you can imagine how our stance is viewed by the faithful sector of society."

"The war that hasn't been declared yet, you mean?" Pipit asked.

"It might not have been declared, but it's coming," Lilith assured him. "Every ancient text, in your realm and mine, foretells of it."

"I've heard extensive teachings on the war during the era of the Goddess-"

"The war of unmatched scale and ferocity," Lilith interrupted.

"Well, yes. I've heard the stories for years, but…"

"But, that's all they were to you- stories." She aimed an eye over her shoulder. "Legend, and nothing more."

"In a way, I guess."

"You humans are so ignorant. What is the purpose behind shrouding the sky realm in confusion? What can possibly be gained from feeding the children misinformation…Lies about their origins?"

"I wouldn't call it lies, per say," Pipit countered, put off by her accusations. "We were all given the information-"

"Under the guise of folklore – a pretext for the true, unadulterated account of what really happened." Growing impatient, she squeezed her heels into Astaroth, pushing him into a trot. Taking some of her earlier advice, Pipit curled his hands around her torso.

"Maybe we got a watered down version of the actual events," he said. "That's the way it's always been. The sacred text was always available to us, and a lot of people studied it on their own time. And I don't just mean scholars. Still, I can't think of too many people who've read through the whole thing, besides the Headmaster at my academy. Pretty sure everyone besides him has always treated it as legend."

"Well, you will learn, soon, I'm sure," Lilith said with confidence. "For the purposes of this conversation, though, I can tell you this: very few humans died in those battles because very few fought. Her Grace, or Hylia, whatever you want to call her…" A hint of contempt laced her words. "…She was careful to protect her flock. You humans made out quite well. Can't say the same for my people." She stared into the trees.

"I know that the enemy…" He paused. "I mean, your people were-"

"Slaughtered? Massacred in hordes? All in the name of a maddened autocrat posing as an honorable ruler? That about covers it. It took over three-thousand years for our population to recover, to get to its pre-war level. You say you know, but you don't really. It doesn't hold the same weight for you as it does for me. This is reality for me, not a mere fable."

"That's a long time. Why so long?" Lilith smiled to herself.

"I'll tell you when we get to camp."

"'Kay. So, the reconstruction of your race," Pipit continued, hungry for facts. "Is that the reason why this war of revenge is about to be set in motion?"

"Oh, it goes beyond revenge. I don't even want to voice what I believe my king's plans are for the surface and sky realm. It's too despicable to say aloud." Pipit gaped at the back of her head, unintentionally grinding the red fabric of her uniform between his fingers. "Even if you have only a vague familiarity with the sacred text of your race, you ought to know that this dark time was predicted long ago. How many prophecies speak of the rejuvenation of the demon tribe and the restrengthening of their once latent king? It is time, human, whether you or anyone else likes it or not."

"I'm not sure I quite get you," Pipit said. "You're obviously discontented with humans as a whole, and their Goddess, and what she did three millennia ago…" Lilith turned her eyes down. "…Yet, you're willing to risk your life to resist the only thing that would bring vengeance against us, to vindicate those who have died. Why?"

"The war, and my king, threaten my race. Anyone and anything that gambles with the life of an honorable demon, I will not support," she replied. "Even if the odds of winning stand firmly in our favor."

"You trying to say your realm is tougher than my realm?" Pipit asked with a sardonic head wag.

"Well, there's really no way to tell, is there? The army of this realm is unrivaled, certainly. But, when treed, even the weakest mongrel can dredge up some spunk."

"Wow, your faith in humankind is both heartwarming and inspiring." Lilith broke into another mirthful laugh.

"I don't mean to make it sound as bad as that," she eased. "I would expect the sky armies and knights to put up a valiant fight on every front. In fact, I depend on it."

"You do?"

"We both want the same result: for this war to be over as quickly as possible. Or, ideally, for that first skirmish to never see the light of day, at all. That's precisely what I, and so many others, are striving for right now."

"How? I can't imagine you'd kill your own people."

"Oh, no, definitely not. We use peaceful means to hamper an army that grows stronger every day, along with its king."

"How, though?"

"Are you always burning for knowledge like this?"

"Only when I get sucked into what I thought was a fictional place…up until tonight," Pipit told her. "I hope you don't find me rude."

"No, not at all," she said with a smile. "I'm just not used to speaking about the covert operations that take place. And, well…" She shrugged somberly. "Sometimes people do die, although we try and prevent it. Sometimes a scuffle will occur when we are out on a mission. Sometimes a CS unit will succeed in hunting down one of our campsites. It's known to happen on rare occasion, no matter how many times we pack up and relocate. So many soldiers – either resistance or otherwise – have been sniped in the woods. It's a nightmare, really. Bloodshed is the last thing we want."

"Not into guerilla warfare, I take it?"

"That's not what we're about. But, the resistance is large, and made up of thousands of fighters. There are factions. Some are more violent than others. Like I was telling another human not even two days ago, there are groups that live in the foothills, ambushing army bases and killing at random. Even though we're not affiliated with them, our government lumps us all together, dubbing us 'the defiance', not resistance…If any of us are unfortunate enough to be captured…" She shook her head in dismay.

"Gods…" Pipit said. "So, this is your whole life?"

"Only at night. But not every night. When present, I lead the unit. Someone else takes charge when I leave. I provide my people, as well as those in nearby units, with information…military or otherwise. I have connections."

"What do you do during the day?" Squeezing her left leg against her horse, she pushed him into a smooth canter. The trees had thinned, gradually giving way to a vast plain. Pipit grasped her tighter.

"I'm an army captain," she disclosed. Pipit gasped.

"You lead a double life! That's crazy!"

"Oh, it's crazy, alright," she chuckled. "To constantly be on edge that I may be found out and prosecuted, made into a scapegoat, and punished for every crime ever committed by the dregs of the resistance. My father is one of the most powerful men in this realm. If he knew that I was aiding and abetting the 'dirt-faced, wanton immoralists', as he so lovingly calls us…"

"Wow…"

"We've got a thirty-minute gallop to my camp in the Doloroth Woods. I really stuck my neck out to chase down that stalhound. I came within a couple miles of Lord Ghirahim."

"Yeah, I personally am comfortable only when I'm at least five miles from the guy," Pipit added.

"Well, you have much less to worry about than a double-crossing company commander does. If human-to-demon addiction was my biggest concern, I'd sleep much, much better at night, let me tell you."

"Wait, wha?" Pipit asked her.

"I'll explain it more when we get to camp." Cutting the conversation short, she shouted, galvanizing Astaroth into a hasty gallop. His feathery feet batted the air. His gait picked up so quickly that Pipit had to grab Lilith's arm to steady himself.

Clinging to her for dear life, Pipit bounced around behind her, unable to see the look of pure happiness on her face. It was impossible not to enjoy making an assay of the knight's bravery. Allowing her pride and joy to blow the young man's loftwing out of the water was a delight, as well.

More black shadows lined the edge of the wide open plain, giving Pipit something to focus on other than his emergent fear.

His brain swirled with memories of home. He wondered if, and how, he would ever make it back to the sky. What would he tell Link if he ever faced him again?

He thought about the demon, and the grotesque images that he'd gained from him.

He dwelled on Calwren for a while; a good, long while. Cradled by the cadenced pace of the horse, he was able to relax. He shut his eyes.

Before he knew it, their speed had begun to ease. Their treeless surroundings had become filled by a pinery, saturating the air with a wonderful scent. Brown pine needles littered the ground, snapping and crunching beneath iron horseshoes.

On and on they travelled through the timberland, passing by stonewalls and crossing worn out pathways. The trees seemed to become bigger, wider and closer together, until they reached a glade.

In this remote crook of the forest, an empty tract of land spread out. Peeking through the trees, Pipit quietly observed the activities of dozens of strangers. The loud crackling suggested a roaring fire, but no blaze could be seen aside from what emanated from a rounded stone assemblage. It was wide at its base yet no taller than the inhabitants of the camp.

"That's just our makeshift oven, although we call it a 'hearth', because it sounds homier," Lilith said, following his gaze to the light. "The use of fire has to be limited when in hiding. Luckily, it's normally too dark to see the smoke that rises above the canopy, but flames can be seen quite easily. It would be a shame to lead our enemies right to us."

"You mean, your nighttime-enemies, but daytime-friends?"

"In my case, I suppose," she said. "So, we've become quite proficient in the art of oven-making. Notice how the fire is super hot, has plenty of room to expand, but doesn't give off a bright glow." She swung her right leg over Astaroth's neck and dismounted to the left.

"Yeah," Pipit answered, copying her movement and landing on his feet. Lilith pulled the reins over the colt's head.

"These people are survival experts. That's putting it lightly." Once again, she led the way with the two males in tow.

Walking along the outer edge of the camp, they attracted many probing stares. Pipit returned some of them, but quickly decided to keep his eyes to himself.

"Is this all seventy-five people?" he asked.

"I run a tight ship, not a prison," Lilith said. "It's pretty rare for everyone to be here all at once unless we're moving, which we always do at night. During downtime like this, many go off and enjoy some alone time together, if you know what I mean. Or, perhaps get some archery practice in. Some people have 'day-jobs', like me, so they're not always here. Sometimes a group will be off on a mission, or rendezvousing with members of other units. It's also worth mentioning that some soldiers will transfer to other units. Sometimes they quit altogether. The resistance isn't for everyone, after all…"

Eventually, they arrived at the area designated for the equine members of the camp. Removing Astaroth's bridle, she gave him a firm slap on the rump, sending him into the grassy area. In spite of the limited visibility, Pipit was able to count forty horses.

"Ready to check out the camp?" Lilith asked.

"Sure, but uh…Are you gonna tell me how to get back home, soon?"

"Of course, silly," she snickered. "You said you wanted to borrow some clothing. Well, come on over and we'll see what we can do." As she turned back toward the camp, Pipit followed.

Stepping into the softly lit glade, they heard the subtle din of voices fizzle out. Everyone's head had turned to investigate the newly arrived pair. Some people looked downright afraid.

"No worries, everybody," Lilith called out. "He's a friend. A traveler who I came across after finishing what I'd set out to do." She nodded toward Pipit, signaling for him to come with her. Trying to ignore the scrutinizing eyes, he kept his head low. He could practically feel the searing looks of some of the women.

"Jinn," Lilith said, addressing a tall man in dark linen. Kneeling over a pile of laundry, he stood up. Pipit looked up at him before Lilith spoke again. "Believe it or not, this guy mends clothes like nobody's business. So, naturally, we handed the job over to him." She grinned at the demon. Pipit studied his extremely pale skin and white hair. He looked far too similar to Ghirahim. "Do you have an extra pair of men's underthings in that heap?" Jinn gave the knight an odd glance.

"Of course, Captain," he said, obviously wanting to please his leader. Returning to his miniature mountain, he salvaged an article made of soft, white material. Lilith gladly took it.

"It may be a little big," she said, turning to Pipit, "but, it'll do. Better than, um…" Looking down, she gave a slight head twitch.

"Yup, thanks," Pipit said, taking it. He did his best to present a polite smile to Jinn, but the demon's skeptical expression proved that his efforts had failed. Pipit was more than happy to exit the area.

"So, uh, how do I get back to the sky?" he asked, walking beside Lilith and viewing the layout of the camp. It was a large oval, with the hearth in the middle, surrounded by tent after tent, with people scattered everywhere. No matter what they were engaged in – sitting, standing, talking, eating, working – they all gawked at Pipit, mystified.

"You won't be going directly to the sky," Lilith corrected.

"I won't?"

"Of course not. This realm doesn't connect to the sky. It connects to the surface." They made their way toward the hearth and the people that had gathered around it. "I'm going to direct you toward one of the bridges between here and the surface. From there, you'll be able to find your way home. But, first…" They stopped beside the fire, joining the rest of the group. "…Are you hungry? Do you need anything?"

"Uh…" Pipit solidified against the ravenous stares of several women, all of which had long, white hair. Most of them were taller than he was. "Uh, I think you're asking the wrong person."

"Hm?" Lilith asked, almost smiling.

"Them…" Pipit answered. "They look pretty hungry."

"Oh. Yes, well, you're a man among demonesses at the moment, knight."

"So I see…"

"I should probably enlighten you on a demoness's affinity for human men." Pipit took in an eyeful of breasts, and seemingly never ending legs, all covered tautly in form-fitting uniforms. He cleared his throat.

"Please do…" After placing a glass canister in Pipit's free hand, Lilith grabbed herself a thin metal plate, stacked high with a generous portion of foraged vegetables, bread, and a fat slab of the catch of the day.

"You looked thirsty," she commented. "Let's go sit down."

"Sure."

"That's Mara," Lilith said, pointing. She picked her meat up by the bone and ripped a piece off with her teeth. "She's the best hunter we've ever had. This right here is thanks to her." She winked toward the distant demoness.

"Okay," Pipit said. "Why do you look so different from them?"

"Oh, I'll explain that in a minute, too," she said with a mouthful.

"Okay…cool." They entered a small circle made up of several unoccupied rocks for sitting. Pipit sat and took a sip of his water. She was right – he was more dehydrated than he'd realized.

"So…" Lilith said, leaning over the plate in her lap. "Demon women have a natural inclination toward human men." She tore a piece of bread. "They're looking at you because you have something that they need." She took a few moments to chew while Pipit waited.

"And that is…?"

"They want your seed," she said.

"They huh?"

"Do I really need to pick that apart for you?" He nodded, and she sighed. "They want to sleep with you, get in your pants, take advantage of you. Take your pick."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." Instead of replying with, 'Methinks mine eyes hast found heaven', he said,

"Damn, what kind of a camp did I come to?"

"One with demonesses."

"Well, I've already messed around with two different people tonight. Adding a third would bring me into new record territory." He shifted his eyes. "Actually, no, it wouldn't. If it were three people all at once it would be a new record." His eyes shifted again. "Actually, no, that's not true, either. I'm just gonna shut up now." He took another drink.

"Oh, no need to shut up." She swallowed. "If there's something you wanna tell, go right ahead."

"Is it a bad thing that I would probably give them my 'seed' if I wasn't already a mess?" Lilith tried not to choke.

"Hey, that's your business," she said with a giggle. "I won't stop you. If you feel like doing your part to repopulate this realm, be my guest."

"Damn you, Lord Rearagleem," he mumbled. Still, he knew he was better off behaving himself.

"Well, more importantly…" She dabbed at her mouth with a cloth before flipping her black curls behind her. "You probably want to know where you'll surface when you cross over to the surface. Right?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely. I'd also like to hear more about this human-demon addiction stuff-"

"I've never entered the surface realm myself, but I've seen it through several gateways. I'll explain it in a minute."

"Okay."

"Maybe you'd like to learn about my soldiers," she said. "Why they're here. They each have their own story, of course."

"Whatever you wanna tell me."

"Also, before you go, if you wanted to, you know, philander a bit, I'm sure there's innumerable ladies here who wouldn't mind. There's a nice warm pond a few hundred yards to the north. Just say the word and as many women as you want will probably beat you there." Pipit nearly dropped his drink.

"Don't scare me away from this camp before you have a chance to show me that bridge, now…"

"Hey, I'm just saying," she said, nonchalantly nibbling at her food. "But don't impregnate every one of my women. I can't have them all melon-bellied at the same time. Would make for some cumbersome missions."

"Yeah…" Pipit said, looking away. "Maybe you should just show me where that gateway is…now." Lilith just smiled. Her demon half just couldn't resist a little jovial temptation.

"You men are ridiculous."


	24. Abide in Me

**WARNING: **_Carefully worded S&M-ish torture in the beginning. Skip if you wish._

_Recommended readings: *Distractions* by hairyhen – a wonderfully naughty MidLink one-shot._

_*Frozen* by CrimsonLink – a one-shot that highlights Link's thoughts after losing the final battle in SS._

Chapter 24

Abide in Me

"What I want is your desire."

"Flesh, metal, blood of fire."

"Your need my presence will fulfill."

"Yearning to obey my will."

"In her you find an open grave."

"With me, a peer, to Her, a slave."

"With heart ablaze, you will succumb."

"'I'm sorry, oh, my faithful one.'"

"'You served me well. You always do.'"

"'Emerald, jade, green of hue.'"

"'Destined to guard, I say to thee.'"

"'But who, I ask…'"

"'Will shield you from me?'"

"Come to me, my due, my song."

"To me, alone, you shall belong."

In the grip of a dream, Link tossed and turned. The silky sheets brushed the bare skin of his unconscious body. Perspiring, he clenched his hands and pushed up—

_—resisting the fetters around his wrists._

"Did you enjoy your little poem, sky child?"

_Writhing from the pain, Link mumbled, groaning his frustrations to the high ceiling of his captor's extravagant bedchamber._

"I call it yours because it _is_ yours. I wrote it for you. Among the sage you would be to heed what has been, for your sake, composed in verse."

"_Mmmmm…no…"_

"My offer. It still stands, human."

"_No…"_

"Your option to join me. It remains."

_The sound of a shaky inhale filled the room._

_Being completely at the demon's mercy meant much more than discomfort._

_The hellish scenario had repeated itself over and over again, all night long._

_First, the offer was made. Then, the refusal, followed by a merciless beating. Left scourged, Link would be questioned. Finally, he was worked slowly and methodically to a mortifying level of sensual excitement, which Ghirahim had a knack for._

_With a will of pure iron, Link fought the demon's sick game._

_Practically unendurable pain was repeatedly swapped for intense yet fruitless pleasure. Link found himself caught in a convergence of polar opposites—tears of misery blended with those of shameful enjoyment. How the demon could build such an intricate stratum of horror and delight was an enigma. Skillfully administered, the pain made the overwhelmingly pleasant sensation all the more gratifying._

_After a while, Link couldn't tell if the broken sounds coming out of his mouth were due to pangs of torment or rapturous buildup of tension. It begged for dispensation. But, the demon wouldn't let him have it, depriving him of what he needed right at that euphoric moment of release. It was then that he delivered more jaw-dropping pain._

_The pleasure was awful and the ache was wonderful. It was exquisite torture._

_Tied down and defenseless, Link hadn't the strength to watch the demon's advancements any longer. Gaping upward, he felt himself sink into his enemy's fiery hand, drowning in a swelling heat that couldn't possibly be defined. He fought back a saturated moan every time, wishing that his pride would allow him to move his lower body up and down; anything to rout the never ending climactic approach that continued to threaten his sanity. Tingling turned to burning, the flickering flames of relief escalating, hissing a scathing pledge. When he was sure that his long awaited ecstasy was at hand, the stimulation was withdrawn, replaced by the excruciating crush of malicious fingers. In absolute torment he let out his breath, weary, but refusing his enemy the enjoyment of his screams._

_It was the worst and best thing that Link had ever experienced._

_He nearly split his tongue trying to keep silent, but his anguish was too much. When fingers dug into what was throbbing and engorged, he made music for the demon, whimpering through a closed mouth. One stroke away from being taken by the cruel throes of pleasure, he shouted curses in his head._

_Sweat matted his face and chest, trickling down._

"This is but a sampling, sky child. I will bring upon you despair without end if you choose not to cooperate."

_He struggled in his bondage, reeling in the humiliation that had become standard in the demon's presence. During his first trip in this realm, however, he had never been subjected to anything this terrible._

_Still gripping the human, the demon crawled up his body, making sure to brush his velvety wrap against every inch of exposed, bruised, cut flesh. The wounds, still fresh and weeping, stung and singed, proving that to deny Ghirahim was a painful thing._

_He crept into Link's distraught face, waving his smug grin around with total abandon. He licked his lips, crushing what was captured in his palm and basking in the human's silent cries that were dying to be heard._

"_I'm not—" Link said with a gasp, "—joining you."_

"Not only will you be the thrall of my fantasies, but so will your woman…_Midna_."

_Link puled when he heard her name._

"So lost in my embrace she will be that she will no longer recognize the sound of your voice."

_With eyes squeezed shut he felt the demon's mouth graze his ear. The invasive hand began to stroke, rebuilding the pressure that had dampened. His breathing became almost nonexistent._

"Is this what you want, hero?"

"_If you touch her," Link whispered, "I don't care what I have to do…. I'll kill you."_

_Ghirahim's hand tightened as he rubbed, pulling and twisting, forcing a single tear and a pained groan from the human._

"Such impertinent words coming from an utterly helpless mouth."

_He dragged a thumb across Link's bottom lip, tickling beneath his chin. He was glistening._

"Yet more words that you will recant. You will never kill _me_."

_His hand conducted a slow, gentle, torturous stroke. Link tried not to move._

"You will never kill me because not only do you enjoy this, but you require it. You would go insane without me, human. I will always be your master, the wielder of the diamond blade, and you will always worship me."

_Such dreadful pain…_

"Give ear, human."

_With one hand the demon massaged. With the other he grabbed his victim's hair. A violent pull sent Link's open mouth to the side, baring his oversensitive ear. Ghirahim spoke his sweltering words straight into it._

"Yes, the offer that I made in the manor still stands. But, it is no longer my main concern, for no matter what, you will become one with me. It will simply be delayed. That is all."

_A compression of a hand was chased by an alarmed breath._

"What I require of you now is epochal, precipitating the dawn of a new era. Are you ready?"

_He nuzzled his nose into Link's neck, smelling his slick, flushed skin._

"Seeing as how your stubborn memory is locked at this time, I'm going to have to ask you to tell me what I want to know."

_With rhythmic motions, he dangled in Link's face the heavenly prospect of sweet release. Enjoying the sleek feel of the unclad hero, Ghirahim pumped him, moving his head like a puppet's. Holding him still, the demon plunged his tongue through the human's parted lips, enveloping his mouth from corner to corner._

_After his minute-long search for answers turned up nothing, he withdrew, taking with him more of Link's resolve. He practically squalled, disputing the removal of his only means of pain reduction._

"I am not fond of this new skill of yours. Where, I ask, is the one who taught you this?"

_With labored gasps, Link shook his head._

"You've afforded me everything that I've postulated, hero. Such a good boy…"

_He rubbed again, and again, and again. Link mashed his teeth together._

"But…"

_The demon teased Link's mouth with his own, inviting him to open up. His fear rose._

_This fear, however, was different. It was not fear for oneself. It was fear for another._

"I need more, hero…"

_Jerking Link's head aside, he latched onto the vulnerable earlobe before him._

_Link finally cried out._

_ Ghirahim took a heavy breath through his nose, absorbing the wonderful feel of the hero's suffering, relishing in the first of his ear-shattering screams._

"Are you in the mood to go deaf tonight, human?"

_Moisture layered his flesh in beads._

"Because you will unless you tell_ me_."

"_No!" Link yelled._

"Round and round we go. Are you sick of it yet, hero?"

"The truest of all battlefields, that which exists in your mind, is in flames, human. Soon, it will be little more than ashes. Surely you grow somnolent in this endless fight against me."

"Are you tired of this pitched battle?"

"How long will you remain on your feet in this crusade, knight?"

"You still have nothing to return to. The women that you love are vixens. Your best friend is a traitor. Not one single person exists who you can honestly call 'friend'."

"You return to me because I am _still_ right. I am as true as the moment that you witnessed the spirit maiden turn her back on you to hold your turncoat of a comrade."

"The trials—they've thrown themselves at you by the swarm. Entirely too much you have done for this weak Goddess of yours, this exploiter whom you will stupidly martyr yourself for. You will meet death in the name of one who claims to be devoid of all darkness, but in truth depends on the self-sacrifice of a gullible hero to fumble toward a paltry success."

"Give me what I want and I will lift this burden from you. Provide me with what I need and I will give you rest…"

"Do you want rest, human?"

"I know what you long for. I know that you ache to cast every test, every ordeal, every aggrieved moment of your battered existence into a sea of forgetfulness. _I_ can allow for that."

"But, only if you allow me to help you…"

_Ghirahim grasped Link's face, forcing their eyes together._

"Now then, man of unparalleled fidelity…"

_Their mouths touched once more._

"Abide in me, and have your indelible need satisfied for eternity."

_His hand glided along the human, chastening him, rewarding him, impelling him to believe that he had no other choice…_

"So, tell me. Where is she, _Link_?"

Like a man breaking through the surface of an icy river, Link sprang up, panting and clutching the pale sheet strewn around him. He stared at the wall.

"Oh my _gods," _he rasped, shutting his eyes and wiping his wet forehead. The faint, pink light of dawn rose up to meet his shocked face. "What in the…?"

He looked quietly at the wall as if it held the solution to the mystery behind what he had just seen.

He pulled his knees to his chest and his hands to his face. He thought some more.

"If that's what spying on Pipit gets me, I swear to the Goddess, I'll _never_ do it again…"

He took a deep breath. Shivering, he realized how cold a warm breeze could feel on damp skin. As he watched the chiffon drapes stream away from the sliding door, he noticed something.

He was stark naked.

"Oh my gods!" he said again, rushing to wrap himself in the sheet. He glanced around, beginning to suspect that the demon was here. After a nightmare as vivid and upsetting as the one that he just had, he wouldn't doubt it.

Leaning down to the floor, he pulled the ruffled bed skirt up. He shook his head. No monster.

"Well, one thing's for sure," he said as he sat up. "Demons are horrible poets…" He looked down, peering inside the sheet to make sure that all was intact and unspoiled. Everything seemed fine. And, thankfully, nothing was quite as aroused as it had been during his dream.

He held his hands up, checking his wrists. Oddly, they hurt enough to suggest the recent use of restraints. He rubbed his skin, alarmed, expecting to see redness and chaffing. He chewed his lip, unable to dispel what was assaulting his mind even now -

The inescapable picture of Ghirahim asserting ownership over his habituated body.

Link shivered again.

"That was worse than the dream I had in the woods two nights ago." He hopped out of bed, leaving his covering behind to locate his uniform. The feeble shine of a newly risen sun did its best to aid his search. "Is that all? Two nights?" He bent to grab the heap of green wool and beige linen. "Feels like an eternity."

Remembering his instructions to prepare for an early departure, he slipped on shorts, socks, a cream-colored shirt, woolen trousers and a green tunic.

"Well, I left the surface yesterday morning to fly to the North Province, and before that, I was with…_him _ all night." He grimaced. "The day before I ran to the temple, ended up sick as a dog, and then passed out cold." He pondered the strangeness of it all. "Yeah, I guess it has been only two days. Hard to believe." After fastening his belt, he combed through his hair; it was getting shaggier by the day. "I need a new knight's cap."

The natural perfume of flowers filled his nose in gusts. Ready to leave the room, he took a gander. His senses were enticed by the scent of summer and the pleasant glow of early morning, both of which were flowing past the silken drapes. Drawn by the open door, he made his way to the end of the room.

After two steps had been taken, he stopped short. Something bright red caught his eye. He looked down.

The rose that he had picked out of a colorful bouquet the previous night sat at his feet. It appeared flattened; nearly crushed into the dark carpet. Scooping it up, he gave one of the disheveled petals some attention. It was as soft as ever. Holding the flower to his chest, he approached the doorway.

Burying his face into the velvety petals, he hopped over the threshold, entering the estival morning air.

A square stone balcony, lined on each side by granite benches, stretched out around him. Open to the elements, it boasted a fine view of the sky. Streaks of magenta, orange and yellow painted the east, dotted by the comings and goings of Supernan loftwings and their owners.

Scooting to the rail, Link dropped his gaze. The scene in front of the Crown Plaza, while nice, was nothing compared to what resided in arrears. It was the picture of loveliness.

Separated from the unremitting stir of the city was a heavily forested park, complete with a maze of flower gardens, huge animal topiary and stone statues, all surrounding a large pond in the center. A dirt path led alluringly from the foot of the hotel to the trees, summoning anyone with a love for lazy strolls in the woods.

Link sighed. This place was wildly romantic, and all he had was something that smelled like the woman that he wanted in his arms right now.

This state, this city, this hotel, this balcony—they were all fit for the most enamored of honeymooners.

Hugging his blossom, Link took a smooth, waltzing step to the side, imagining a morning dance. It had been so long since he'd danced with anyone.

Well, Fi seemed a fan of dancing. She had a unique way of spinning and twirling when talking about certain subjects. But, as much of a privilege as it was to observe her graceful movements, and to give in to the urge to move a little bit along with her, it wasn't the same as holding a woman, and becoming one with her in a dance.

Unfortunately, the closest Link had to a date at the moment was Pipit. He laughed.

_Pipit would never appreciate any of this. The only thing he'd see right now is that blonde woman with the skimpy top._

After mumbling under his breath about the gaping hole in whatever it was that held Pipit's ability to care about anything other than women, Link reentered his bedroom. Walking toward the hallway, he noticed the glass bottle of massage gel resting on the end of the bed—the one that he had discovered next to the feather pens, ink and nail scissors in the bedside table.

Without a second thought, he retrieved the bottle, holding it alongside the rose. In a moment, the wooden door opened with a slight creak, letting in the garden-fresh aroma that lingered in the dark corridor.

He hadn't taken four steps before Ghirahim's face popped into his head. He rubbed his neck. The vestige of the graphic dream had left his senses heightened. In a way, he could still feel the demon's hands on him.

Link felt his enemy's name clinging to the tip of his tongue. For some reason, he wanted to say it.

As his feet moved, his lips tried to move along with them. In fact, it almost felt challenging _not_ to say it.

Halfway between his room and Pipit's, Link halted. He felt for sure that the itch that was presenting itself in his mouth was all in his head, but it troubled him, nonetheless. He bit his tongue, chewing away any impulse to speak the demon's name.

"Not only are you a bad poet, but your ability to win me over leaves a lot to be desired." He advanced toward the master bedroom, giggling over the idea of being conciliated by demonic S&M rituals. He was as happy as could be that it was only a dream.

Leaving the loneliness of the opposing room behind, Link tiptoed into the more spacious area of the suite. He kept his eye on the bed, mindful of the large, motionless lump beneath the sheets. Link grinned, having predicted hours ago that Pipit would never wake up first. Not after that late night escapade of his, anyway.

"Looks like I finally get to make fun of _you_ for your inability to get up on time," Link whispered, skulking to the corner of the bed. Once there, he located his bags which were buried under his boots, two sets of chain mail and gauntlets, and a knight's cap. Not wanting to lose his belongings, he placed his rose and bottle into the smaller pouch, and the armor into the larger. Pipit really needed to get his own bags.

He stood up and turned. He looked at the sleeping mound.

A fiendish smirk spread across his face.

With a pleased skip he glided to the bed and slinked onto it, careful not to jar the mattress or his sleeping friend. Distracted from his memory of the demon, he crawled beside the peaceful protuberance. Not allowing for any diabolical chuckles to slip out, he jumped up, shaking the bed in the process and landing heavily onto the curled up body. Straddling the floundering mass, he gave a splendidly wicked laugh. As the covers thrashed about, he dropped his face to meet what soon would be revealed.

"Good morning, sunshine," he said with a honeyed tone. The soft sheet was finally whipped away.

With his hands on the bed, Link's smile completely vanished.

His gaze was met not by blue eyes, but brown, and they were flaring. The two stopped dead.

"AAAAAAH!" the stranger screeched.

Link flinched and jumped away. He gawked, coming to terms with the fact that he had just jumped on a woman. He scrambled back, almost falling off the bed.

"Oh my gods! I'm so sorry!" Link shouted. "I'm sorry! I thought you were—"

"_Get away_!" the girl screamed, flying out of the bed and swinging her arms.

In the path of a wild woman, Link slid off, rolled and shot to his feet, holding his hands in front of him. He backed up. The girl, wrapped in the sheet, stumbled after him, her dark curls bouncing around her small, rounded face.

"Who are you?" she demanded in a thin voice, bounding toward him. "How did you get in here?"

Still making sense of the situation, Link waved his hands in surrender. "I'm staying here with Pipit!" he said, knocking into a small table near the bathroom. Petals rained down on the carpet. As the irate woman stomped into his face, he looked to the side. The sheet, which was fairly translucent, was slipping down, displaying a bit too much cleavage.

"Who's Pipit?" she asked, tugging the white material. The bunched up silk seemed to hang every which way across her body, dragging on the floor at her feet.

Link gave her a funny look. "Who's Pipit? The guy you were with last night…?"

She looked back, genuinely confused. "I thought his name was Peregrine?"

Link just gaped, amazed. _She's as bad as _he _is…_ He shook his head. "No…" he said slowly. "It's Pipit…" With head turned, he monitored her. Luckily, her movements were slowing and her voice was quieting. He sighed as she eased out of her battle stance.

She dropped her head and fingered her curls. "Oh, I…" she began, stepping back. "I was pretty tipsy last night, so…" Her dark eyes remained leery.

_She really _is _as bad as he is… _"Um…" Link said, trying not to look below her neck. She was visibly upset, but he didn't know how to console her.

Looking uncertain about everything, the girl stepped away, heading toward the right side of the bed. There, she picked up her blue tunic and black pants.

"You scared me half to death. I thought you were a rapist. Why did you do that?"

Link stood with his hands out, not sure if he should move yet. "I thought you were my friend," he said. "I'm really sorry." Knowing that she wanted to get dressed, he turned further, engaging himself in a staring contest with the wall.

"Is that how you normally wake each other up?" the girl asked, slipping into her undergarments.

"No, not…well, sometimes," Link muttered. He listened to the familiar rustle of linen as it swept across her skin, keeping his eyes at a safe distance. He nearly missed the contemptuous expression on her face.

When he heard the clinking of buckles and the pulling on of shoes, he figured he was okay to turn. Heavy footfalls confirmed it. At once, he found an unhappy female before him. She was a little shorter than him; not as short as Zelda, but just as petite. Link had no problem seeing how Pipit had flung her around so easily last night.

Recalling the act of coition between her and his friend gave him a weird feeling in his belly.

"That was reckless," the girl grumbled. He leaned back, surprised by her portending tone. He wasn't the least bit nervous, though. In fact, he was close to smiling at how angry she was and how unafraid he felt. Her frazzled Supernan uniform was far from perfect, as well.

But he chomped down on both of his lips, curbing the grin before it had the opportunity to appear. "You oughta be _ashamed_ of yourself." She balled her hands up.

Now he really had to fight back his smile. He looked down and scratched the back of his neck. "Oh, I have more to feel ashamed about than that…" he replied. A chuckle was trying to break through the seriousness in the room. She glared at him through the narrowest of eyes.

Finished talking, the girl left Link in the corner, treating the entire floor to a heavy door slam. He held his breath, hoping that the loud bang hadn't disturbed anyone. He felt guilty at the prospect of his own negligence waking people up. He was the one who had irritated that girl, after all. He thought about her some more, feeling bad that he had just proved himself to be a complete jerk to a woman.

He let the silence seep into his ears. Then, a point of interest grabbed his attention: the one who he had originally supposed was in the bed was very much missing in action.

He looked around, fairly certain that his friend would have intervened a minute ago had he been anywhere nearby. Link spotted the sliding door across the room, considering that perhaps he had fallen asleep outside. He ran to it.

"Pipit?" he called as he stepped onto the balcony. Much like the one connected to his room, this balcony overlooked the park's foliage, paths and trees. And, as with his balcony, there was no Pipit.

Link took some time to contemplate as he observed the carefree drifting of those below. Maybe Pipit was among them, rollicking about somewhere with a woman. It was pretty early in the morning for that, however. Even for Pipit.

Stretching and yawning, he went back inside. He rechecked the pile of clothing. Only one pair of boots could be found. There was no doubt about it – Pipit had left.

Secure in the knowledge that he had a little bit of time before the arrival of his next escort, Link slid his boots on, neatly tucking in each pant leg.

Shaking off the morning stiffness, he tapped his toes on the floor. Ready to go on a hunt for his friend, he headed for the door.

But, mid-step, he heard the knob click. It started to rotate.

Surprised, Link shuffled to the side, clearing the short walkway that passed between the bathroom and the closet. Hidden from view, he peered around the corner, making sure that the one entering was not an unwelcome guest.

A recognizable foot came through the door. It was followed by a leg clad in light-colored pants, embellished with a geometric design distinct to the current second-year knight-students of Skyloft.

When the ever brightening light of the morning hit deep yellow wool, Link knew he was safe.

Pipit entered and turned, closing the door as softly as possible. The faintest clack sounded as it slid into place. A small thunk came shortly after as he laid his forehead against it.

He trudged past the bathroom. His gaze landed on the bed in front of him.

"Morning," Link said, stepping out of nowhere. His smile disappeared when he saw his friend's reaction. Nearly jumping out of his skin, Pipit gasped. Flinging backward, he smashed into the wall. He stared wide-eyed.

Startled, Link looked him up and down. "Pipit…?" Link asked, taking a little step. "You okay?"

Pipit didn't say anything for a moment. "Oh, yeah!" he exclaimed. Link froze in place. "Yeah, definitely…totally fine!" He stared some more. His face was flushed and his blue eyes were jittery.

"You don't look fine…" Link told him.

"No, I'm good," Pipit assured him, looking down.

Link lifted an eyebrow. "Okay, well, where'd you go? I mean, this early in the morning?" He cocked his head.

Pipit's eyes shifted. "Um…just to get some air," he replied, standing up straighter.

"Air? Why didn't you just step onto the balcony?"

"I like my air down on the ground," Pipit said with a shrug.

Link made a face. "You don't look like someone who's refreshed," he said, stepping closer. "Quite the opposite."

"What do you mean?" Pipit asked, his voice artificial. He cringed.

"You look like you've been out running."

"Maybe I was."

"Why? When we were up so late? You said you wanted to sleep in. Why get up early?"

"Maybe I'm trying to build my endurance. You got a problem with me improving my soccer game?"

"No, but I've got a problem with you lying through your teeth." Link crossed his arms.

Pipit hesitated. "Lying?" he asked innocently. Link nodded. Pipit dug his heel into the rug. "Okay, okay…" He put his hands out. "I wasn't running. I actually went to meet someone."

"Meet someone? Pip, we don't know anyone here. Who would you meet?"

"Uuhh, a woman."

"A woman? Haven't you had enough _woman_?"

"Pssh, never. Maybe I didn't get any last night."

Link drummed his fingers. "Didn't get any? I'm pretty sure you did_, Pipit._"

Pipit turned a bit paler. "Um, well, maybe I needed more," he retorted.

"What, did you search through bars? Wander the streets for 'women of the night'?"

"Maybe I did," Pipit fired back, leaning into Link's face. "Morning wood. It's an enormous bother. Am I _right_?"

"Why you would have that problem after what you did last night is a mystery to me," Link said. "And, more importantly…" He gestured toward the corner. "Must be kind of hard to get a prostitute without _that_." He gave Pipit a harsh scowl.

Pipit, in turn, took a desolated look at the rupee bag on the floor. He paused again. "Maybe she was…free," he said.

"Oh, right, Pipit. Right." Link shook his head, watching Pipit's story come apart. "I don't think you were with a woman at all."

"What?"

"Nope. I think you were with a guy." Link lifted a hand to Pipit's chest. Looking down, Pipit watched his friend's hand retreat. His face dropped as he saw what was held before him.

A fluffy, silver feather.

"You reek of loftwing," Link informed him.

Pipit glanced sideways. "I went flying after," he said, still looking away.

"You never even break the flying rules when we're at home, Pip. In fact, you're a night guard." He drew closer. "You know better."

"Yeah, well, being a night guard means I know how to circumvent protocol."

"That explains how you took off and made it back," Link said, "but not why you left in the first place." He stood and waited for Pipit to offer something believable, but he was too busy looking pathetic. "You're a bad liar, Pipit."

Their gazes rejoined at last. "I know," Pipit said.

"So, what is it then?" Link asked. "What don't you wanna tell me?"

"That's the trouble. I don't wanna tell you…" Pipit suddenly looked as though his eyes might tear up.

Link pulled back, blown away by the idea. Link watched him wring his hands. "Come on, Pip. It's me," he said, leaving him even more distraught.

Blinking several times, Pipit ran a hand over his mouth. He held it there for a moment. Link remained quiet. "It's been a pretty bad week," Pipit said, covering his face. Link didn't move a muscle. "Know what I mean?"

"I definitely know what you mean," Link said rigidly.

Knowing that he wasn't going to get off without talking, Pipit sighed. "About Zelda…" he said. "Yesterday morning in the woods she told me that she…" He looked his engrossed friend in the eye. "…That she likes me. And I sort of…" He took a breath. "…Told her the same."

Not expecting the latter half of Pipit's statement, Link was stunned. His face went blank. Suddenly, his efforts to soothe his friend seemed misplaced.

"I'm sorry," Pipit said awkwardly. "I dunno how it happened. Three weeks ago when you met Midna at the party, and Zelda was all depressed that you'd ditched her—"

"I didn't ditch her," Link rumbled. "I forgot. She knows that."

"Okay, fine. Whatever the case, she was pretty miserable. We got to talking, and—"

"And what, Pipit? What'd you do?" Link took another step.

"Nothing! I just talked to her a little bit. Tried to make her feel a little better. I mean, she hugged me…" Pipit scratched his head. "After that, I just sort of started…"

"To add her to your long list of women?"

Pipit swallowed. "Uuhh, sort of…?" Link exhaled, annoyed. "Look, it just happened. I mean, she's cute." Link wasn't impressed. "I'm sorry…"

"Yeah…" Link said.

"So, when we saw each other in the woods again, I dunno. I admitted it, and she admitted it, and…we both admitted it, I guess."

"Is that when you let her kiss you?" Link asked, holding his hands behind his back.

"Well, yeah—I mean no! I don't know…. I mean, she kissed me, but I wasn't expecting it. She just…pulled me into it."

"Because a tiny environmental studies major can easily overpower a knight that's six-foot-three?"

"She's stronger than she looks!" Pipit said. "But, the main issue here is that she has feelings for me, I have feelings for her, and neither one of us meant to have feelings for the other." His expression pleaded for Link's understanding. "I'm sorry. I can't say it enough."

"Mmhmm." Link curled his tongue.

"You're not the only one who has a thing for more than one person," Pipit told him. "She might like me, but she hasn't given up on _you_, either. Who knows what could happen. I'm not putting my money on anything…"

Link's eyes softened. "Yeah," he murmured, looking down. "I'm glad you told me, but I still wanna know where you went this morning." Pipit quickly went back to fidgeting. "You haven't told me yet."

"Well, uh…" Pipit hopped to the left. "I need to pee!" He scuffled toward the bathroom.

"Liar," Link snarled. He nabbed Pipit's arm. "You were fine yesterday, and now you're acting really weird. Something's wrong. What is it?"

"Weren't you mad at Zelda for doing this same thing to you?" Pipit asked, trying to break away. "For making you talk about what happened with Midna?"

"She was just being nosy," Link said, refusing to let go. "I'm not. We're in a strange place, a lot has happened since the party at the Lumpy Pumpkin, I've been through some horrible things, and I'm in no mood to mess around." He pulled Pipit closer. "Now, _what is wrong_?"

"Please don't give me a concussion again," Pipit said. They glared at one another, at an impasse.

"I can be of assistance, Master," a musical voice called. Both friends froze. Their eyes gravitated toward the corner.

One of Link's pouches illuminated from the inside out. Two pairs of blue eyes watched a twinkling sphere of light rise from the bag. It twirled before growing longer, forming the svelte shape of a woman. Looking behind him, Link held his breath, realizing that Fi had never revealed herself to anyone other than him—besides Midna in the Skyview Spring.

"What the hell is that!" Pipit hollered, reclaiming his arm. His stare glued itself to the floating amethyst-and-violet-garbed spirit. Link looked into Fi's flat eyes.

"This is my…guide," Link told him.

"Guide?" Pipit asked. "Where'd she come from?"

"From the sword," Link said.

"Sword? I don't see any sword."

"It's in pieces," Link forced himself to say. "In one of my bags."

Pipit looked at him like he was crazy."Say what?" Pipit caught a glimpse of the large blue diamond that hung from where Fi's two-toned cloak tied at her neck.

"You have seen a jewel of this likeness in recent hours," Fi disclosed, looking straight at Pipit. He glanced at Link, who slowly turned to view his response.

Pipit looked down. "Uh…yeah, I guess I have…"

Link eye's filled with dread. He faced Fi. "Fi, what do you mean?"

Her rigid posture stayed the same. Pipit's lightly freckled face drained of all color. "Your companion has been with Ghirahim, Master," she said.

"Sweet Hylia," Pipit breathed, grabbing his forehead. As his face dropped, Link slowly, slowly turned to him. One shattered expression mirrored the other. Silence teemed as no one spoke. Every few seconds, the tinkling of Fi's presence could be heard.

Standing between his two confidantes, Link looked back and forth. Pipit was slouched against the wall, and Fi was gracefully hovering, just as she always did.

Link threw his hands up. "Is somebody gonna explain what's going on here?"

"Master, your—"

"Wait!" Pipit yelled, stepping forward. "Good goddesses, if the remlit's out of the bag and someone has to say it, it might as well be me. Though I'd like to know how this—insert epithet here—knows my business."

Link looked as though the world was coming to an end. "He has a piece of my sword."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Pipit asked.

"It doesn't matter, _Pipit_," Link growled. "Not as much as you visiting Gh—" He almost choked on his sentence. "…Him."

"It's not like I wanted to go. I got locked into seeing him again when I found you two nights ago. I had no idea he'd come after me so soon."

"What do you mean locked in? Pipit, what'd you do?"

"I told him I'd come back if he left you alone. I had to go. I gave him my word."

"Pipit…" Link's shoulders dropped. "Why would you do that? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Probably for the same reasons you don't want to tell _me _ anything," Pipit said. "I don't wanna cause any problems, and there's a little something called 'my ego' that I'm trying to protect. Right now, it's a very little something. And rather beat up, as well."

"Oh, gods. Pipit, what happened?" Link's face was as pale as his friend's.

Pipit glanced at the sword spirit. "I'm not sure what he brought me there for…but, uh…" He twiddled his thumbs and sighed. "I got some information from him."

"You what? How?" Link perked up.

"I, uh…" Link watched Pipit stick his tongue out and point into his mouth in an attempt to explain. "Well, um…"

"They were joined, Master," Fi interjected. Link's ears twitched at the disturbing words. He suddenly felt ill. It was the last thing he wanted to hear.

"Thank you _flying thing_," Pipit snapped.

"She's just trying to help me," Link said softly, unsettled.

"Well she needs to shut up."

"Pipit…"

"I can handle this," Pipit assured him. "Yes, we were connected, but only for a few minutes. It paid off. I found out something about Instructor Calwren that I don't think Gargamel wanted me to know."

Link just looked at him for a moment, confused. This news was way too disturbing. "Is he associated with Calwren?"

"Maybe."

"What'd you find out?"

"That Calwren's a demon," Pipit said. Link's mouth fell open. "My words exactly. Well, when I wasn't busting a nut all over myself." Link stepped back, giving Fi an alarmed look. A rush of emotion hit him. "Sorry, I dunno how else to say it. I dunno how he did it, but he got me off with his mouth, as weird as that is." He shrugged. "But that wasn't nearly as bad as what he did before that."

Link shrank back. "What'd he do?" He wrapped his arms around his middle, not wanting to hear it.

"No, not _that_," Pipit said. "Instead of killing me like he should have, he just, well… I guess he thought it would be fun to reenact my first meeting with Calwren."

"What?" Link asked. "Why?"

"I thought he was just being a jerk," Pipit explained, "until I chewed the crap out of that damn tongue of his and read his mind."

Link's eyes sprang open. "You what?" He didn't know whether to be disgusted or fascinated.

"Yeah, pretty crazy, eh?" Link didn't know what to say. "It was hard though, staying focused. I dunno what it was but the harder I tried, the better it felt. I'm surprised I lasted as long as I did."

Link had so many questions that he wanted to ask.

Unfortunately, time was short. The more trivial inquiries would have to wait.

"What else did you learn?" Link asked, still dazed by the content of their discussion.

"I think I saw _her_, actually," Pipit said, pointing to Fi. "I also saw this huge dude with wild frickin' flaming hair—"

"The being that you saw is Demise," Fi chimed in.

"Demise?" Pipit asked. "As in, 'Your demise you shall meet'?"

"Ghirahim's master is aptly named," she replied.

"Master? Who is this guy?" Pipit asked.

"The demon king," Link stated blankly. "That must be who his master is…"

"Oh, demon king.… He must be who that chick, uh…" Pipit snapped his fingers. "Uh, whatever her name is. He must be who she was talking about. She didn't seem too fond of him, I can tell you that."

"What chick?" Link asked.

"Just this half-demon, half-human girl. She was a babe, though, wow…" Pipit grinned to himself. "She kissed me, too. Not that I was really in the mood for it at the ti—"

"What'd she look like?" Link asked.

"Well, she was a couple inches shorter than me. Way taller than you, though." Link frowned. "She had the kind of body that's better suited for a bikini than a soldier's uniform, if you know what I mean."

"Her hair, Pipit. What color was her hair?"

"Oh, um, it was black."

If Link had been drinking something he would have spit it everywhere. "You've gotta be kidding me!"

"Um, nope, pretty sure I'm not." Pipit looked at him strangely.

"How did you run into her? Was she with Ghirahim?" The word slipped out before he could stop it. His face soured in defeat.

"Actually, no. She was trying to avoid him."

Link was quickly pulled from his wallowing. "Why?"

"She's working against him."

Link's brow jumped up. "Huh?" was all he could say. He started to think he was imagining this conversation.

"Yeah. She's part of what she called 'the resistance'. I visited her camp and everything."

Link couldn't believe it. "I don't believe it."

"Which part?"

"All of it! I don't believe all of it, Pipit!"

"What, you think I'm lying? Why the hell would I do that?"

"No, I don't think you're lying. I just…" Link paused. "Maybe I'm just going insane."

"Why?"

"'Cause Lilith is an army captain. She's not against Gh—the demon lord."

"Oh crap, that's her name! You know her?"

"We've met…"

"Oh man, isn't she hot?" Pipit asked with a chuckle.

"Uh…"

"She's like a tall, raven-haired Midna. She's _glorious_!"

"Pipit, please! I think we have other things to worry about, like why you were brought to the demon realm in the first place. If it wasn't to kill you, then it must've been for some other purpose. And what's the connection to Calwren?" Both young men looked to Fi, hoping she had the answer.

"Come on, F-sharp, enlighten us," Pipit said.

"Geez, Pipit, knock it off," Link said.

"What? She ratted me out. Plus she's creepy. You're telling me she's been here the whole time? In your _bag_?"

"Ghirahim possesses many talents," Fi said to both of them. "He is cunning and formidable, and a master at manipulating others to get what he wants. You can be sure that his actions are never aimless."

"So, what's that mean? Did he bring me there to poison me with his weird demonic-sex-powers or something?" Link gave him a shifty glance. "Lilith explained it all to me at her camp. It sounded like a load of malarkey until I remembered how things used to be between Calwren and I…" His voice trailed off. "Yeah, I didn't tell you the whole truth…" He cleared his throat. "But he's not getting me. If that's his little plan, it's not happening. I've already been 'gotten'. Been there, done that, and I got past it. I'm not letting it happen again."

Link looked down, taking a minute to absorb what was being said.

"It is possible that Ghirahim's intentions relate to that of human dependence," Fi confirmed. "Human-to-demon obsession is a possibility, especially with one as powerful as the demon lord. His strength is vastly superior to that of even the most powerful of those under him."

Link felt as if the word 'obsession' had been directed toward him. "I'm pretty sure that's his objective for me. He's talked about it before, more than once. And this dream I just had last night…" He got the shivers again. "Then again, I don't know. He's said that he needs something from me. I don't know what that is, but I don't think he'd get it if I was as dependent as he seems to want me…"

"You must avoid all contact with Ghirahim, Master," Fi warned. "You are already at high risk for human-to-demon dependence." Link felt Pipit's eyes on him. He flinched, hoping Fi wasn't going to elaborate on the subject. "It is important to understand that your dreams are the result of two opposing energies. The contrasting nature of your dreams exists because the force of good is counteracting that of evil."

"My dreams have been chaotic lately. Not just the past two nights, either…"

"I know what he needs from you," Pipit said, intersecting his thought. "A de-tonguing."

Link laughed. "I'd be happy to." He looked to Fi again. "Fi, now that we found that sacred text, and your knowledge is complete, can you…explain what's going on here? I'm still in the dark. What does he want with Zelda?"

"Ghirahim requires the essence of the Goddess Incarnate to revive his master, who daily grows in strength, yet remains in his imprisoned form at the Sealed Grounds." Fi's garment flowed about her as she spoke.

"Goddess Incarnate?" Link asked in wonder. "Are you telling me that Zelda is…"

Fi waited for him to finish, but he didn't. "Zelda is the Goddess Reborn, Master."

Link stared. Loose ends in his mind began tying themselves together. "That's why he calls her 'spirit maiden'," he whispered.

"Yeah, that beanpole of a lady outside the spring called her 'Your Grace'," Pipit added. "I think I remember her saying that Zelda had something to do with the Goddess, but I didn't believe her…"

"I'm with you," Link said.

"Impa is the servant of the Goddess; an elite member of the Sheikah tribe, sworn to protect the physical manifestation of the Goddess for as long as she requires protection," Fi said.

"She's one scary wench," Pipit said.

"Pipit, come on," Link said.

"No, I'm kinda thankful for her. She needs to be tough if she's gonna guard Zelda."

"Me too," Link said with a firm nod. He looked to Fi once more. "I've got a million questions. I hope we get some downtime soon. Our escort's gonna be here. But can you tell me what it is that I have to do? What's this 'Goddess ordained mission' that I'm putting my sanity on the line for?" He waited on tenterhooks as Fi computed an answer.

"Your mission cannot be summed up in mere words." Link's hands dropped to his sides. "Your journey to prevent Ghirahim from sacrificing the Goddess Incarnate will be long, and your trials many. However, I will be with you every step of the way, aiding you as you work to forge what is necessary to defeat the enemy, and guiding you through every battle on the path to the Golden Power."

Link gaped at her. "I…. Uh, thank you, Fi…" he said, awed. "So, where do I go first? When I'm through flying all over the world to visit army generals?"

"You must return to Skyloft, Master," she informed him. "There, you must place the Ruby Tablet that was retrieved from the Skyview Spring beside the Emerald Tablet in the Statue of the Goddess."

"Ruby Tablet?" Pipit asked. "When did you get _that_?"

"When you were kissing Zelda," Link said sorely. Pipit shut his mouth. "Then what, Fi?"

"Then, you must acquire a new shield and sword. This temporary weapon will serve you on your short surface journey to obtain another sword. Deep in the woods, a blade, blessed by the Goddess, awaits you. It will play a pivotal role in your fight against the demon lord and his master."

"I know a certain redhead who probably wouldn't mind playing the 'hero's little helper' on your woodland adventure, know what I mean?" Pipit winked.

Link rolled his eyes. "So, after I get my new sword, then what do I do?"

"The Goddess Reborn is currently undertaking her own expedition to the Earth Spring where she is to purify her body for the second time. However, the journey is perilous, and she still has much ground to cover. In this time, you will attain the weapon in the woods. With sword in hand you will utilize the new opening in the cloud cover, descending to Eldin Volcano. There, you will find the Earth Temple, and the Goddess Reborn. From there, you must aid Impa in bringing her to safety."

"What if I'm not fast enough?" Link asked. "What if I don't get the sword in time, or fly to the volcano fast enough?"

"You will," Fi said simply.

Link nodded. "So, once Zelda is safe, then what?"

"Then you must quest for the three Sacred Flames of the Golden Goddesses." Link and Pipit were both gawking now.

Out of nowhere, a heavy-handed knock burst from behind the hotel door. Both friends jumped.

"We've got a lot of stuff to talk about on our flight to…wherever we're going," Link said. "I can't believe we're talking about this… And I can't believe you went to the demon realm, Pip. I'm amazed you made it back alive."

"That's simply because I have audacious visions for the conquest of peace," Pipit said, flexing a bicep. "Or, more appropriately, because I'm best friends with someone who's been appointed by the Goddess to kick ass. I can't just die, can I?"

Link smiled at him. "Ready to go?" he asked his companions. Pipit cracked every knuckle on his hands and stretched.

"I'm tired as hell, but yeah, sure. Those demonesses wore me out last night." Link almost asked him what he meant, but decided against it.

Fi was already returning to one of the sword shards in Link's bag when he addressed her. "Fi, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about," he said, looping the bags onto his belt.

"Yes, Master?"

"I'm curious about what roles the demon and his master have played in history. This has been bugging me for a while. I can tell by the way he talks about you that he, well…"

"I can share that information with you if you wish, Master."

"Cool, story time," Pipit said. "At least we'll have some entertainment on our ride to who-knows-where."

"You mean other than you counting air cyclones?" Link asked.

"Hey, it's better than nothing," Pipit told him. Gathering themselves up, they walked to the door. After opening it, they were met by a friendly face in a gold-trimmed, sky blue uniform.

"Sir Link?" the soldier asked. Link's eyes lit up a bit upon hearing his distinguished title.

"That's me," he replied.

"The Azurian general awaits."


	25. Send Her My Love: Part One

_This chapter is part one of a mini fic: Fi and Ghirahim's backstory, which takes place during the Era of the Goddess. It is set three-thousand years before the events of Skyward Sword. ENJOY!_

Chapter 25

Send Her My Love: Part One

She wanted to scream and cry, both in sorrow and in happiness. Part of her wanted to dance with joy. The other part wanted to die with the rest of them. It seemed so unfair… While their souls were being ripped from their scourged bodies, she was given the promise of a new day.

Why had the scales been tipped in her favor?

This cursed war had been enough to turn anyone's sanity upside down; to make people question themselves, their purposes, and their world.

The rays of a waning sun scattered themselves around an open field, showering it in a warm, orange glow. The feeble light slipping to the surface was made weaker by a thick cloud cover. Fi looked skyward, her divine face no longer shining, but bemired, dirtied by soil, tears, and blood not her own. She closed her lilac eyes, gathering whatever strength she had left to direct a prayer to the heavens.

She hoped that the Golden Goddesses were listening. She accredited Din for the strength given her to complete what she had been called upon to do. She expressed her gratitude toward Farore for awarding her with the courage to press on in the face of almost certain destruction. She thanked Nayru for instilling in her the wisdom to know when to stand her ground, and when to run for her life.

So much more needed to be said. So much more. To fall on her face in praise seemed the only fitting action to take. The battles were over. They were finally over. The enemy had been overcome. She could _breathe_ again.

Lifting both hands, depleted and enervated from hours, weeks, and months of magic use, she parted her indigo hair, brushing the long, straight tresses behind her. Pulled from her brooding, she inhaled.

With a drawn out exhale, she opened her pointed ears. The bloodshed could still be heard.

After months of anticipation, the final battle had ended, and Hylia's army had won. But, the personal vendettas had yet to cease.

The war had brought a long, prosperous era to a brutal and savage end. Both sides had fought viciously throughout, each knowing when the end had arrived. The ultimate showdown was their last chance to fight for what they believed in. Much blood was spilled in those last days.

Now, amidst a mostly silent landscape, the occasional clash of weapons could still be heard, echoing across land that was now more of a mortuary than a battlefield. The demon king had been sealed away, but the skirmishes continued. The surrender of the roughshod was most certainly going to be slow in coming.

Studying the land, Fi realized that her formal prayer of thanksgiving would have to wait.

She shivered, feeling the faint presence of an unwelcome gaze… In this place, though, such a feeling was normal.

Hundreds of casualties littered this once tranquil field. It seemed odd that the life-giving summer season was just beginning to wrap up. How could this green solstice have coexisted with such a morose and bloody time?

Death was nothing new. Members of various races had fought – and fallen – alongside one another since the war's beginning one year earlier. In one form or another, death was a constant companion to everyone involved in this larger-than-life fight.

The tall, ethereal woman sighed, wrapping her arms around her thin torso and embracing her violet, form-fitting robe. She glanced around, twisting slowly, taking in the visual before her. The sight was common, but ghastly, nonetheless.

The corpses of demons, dressed in heavy mail covered by the igneous coat of arms of their king, were strewn beside those of their enemies - of Fi's allies. Some lay in piles, the heavy frames of friends and foes intermingling. Death was no respecter of persons, consolidating that which couldn't possibly be brought together in life. With the battle over, opposing forces melded, just as they always did after death had asserted its dominance. There was no other way to bring about peace.

In this moment, harmony prevailed.

Fi knelt to the ground, beleaguered. Her warm, woven cloak, the same sky-blue shade as her skin, and marked in the center with the white outline of a crescent eye, lifted into the air before dropping. It settled along her back like warm mist over a cold pond.

Next to her sat the severed head of a brown, broad-shouldered creature: a mogma. The blood beneath it had only just begun to dry and darken, matching the base of the neck on the body. She stared into the glazed eyes, picturing the gruesome scenario in her mind.

The position of the corpse gave her all of the clues that she needed. The elbows were bent and the clawed hands were pressed flat, indicative of the way in which a mogma would normally hold itself just after breaking through the ground. This told her that the attack had happened within seconds of the creature emerging. The wide shoulders were drawn back and tilted at an angle, with the right shoulder down. Ninety-five percent of mogmas were right-handed, so it was only natural for them to twist in such a way to look over their left shoulders. This suggested that the mogma was struck from behind. Most likely, this poor soul had been unlucky enough to surface right at the foot of an enemy, only to lose his head immediately after.

She sighed. So unbelievably unfortunate.

Her full lavender lips curled. She wondered what this mogma's name was, if he had any family, and what he could have done differently to prevent his untimely death. A dozen alternative sequences of events rushed through her mind as she conceived what her dead comrade could not.

She blinked several times, shaking out the barrage of computations. Even at a time like this, her brain was fixed upon analyzing. She scolded herself. Never, never would she allow her compassion to be swallowed up by cold calculations.

The remainder of the gory scene contained hundreds of death stories, each one unique, but equally lamentable. Most were excessively bloody. To look upon them made her feel sick, but to avert her eyes felt disrespectful.

The aged yet youthful woman climbed to her feet. She started wandering, finding the remains of gargantuan, hard-bodied gorons and modest, short-circuited ancient robots, both toughened and hard-bitten by the harsh conditions of Lanayru Province. She spotted countless mace-wielding mogmas, and the once towering figures of the kikwis.

This ancient race of pelage-covered giants, made up of individuals that were twice as tall as the demons, joined Hylia's army, offering its powerful magical abilities. These creatures had truly provided great aid to her cause.

To see these amazing, long-lived creatures reduced to nothing more than black and white mounds in the dirt was utterly heartbreaking.

And the parella; who knew how many of these graceful beings were now floating lifelessly in their domain - the once besieged waters of Lake Floria and its surrounding waterways? The lake had been reclaimed, but not until many lives had been taken.

Fi had yet to meet with Her Grace, the guardians, her fellow commanders, and the leaders of the vanguards. Only then would she learn the true death count of these breathtaking, aquatic creatures.

Blessed – or, perhaps cursed – with a photographic memory, Fi made her weary way through the spattering of bodies, putting a name to every face that could be seen through the filth and disfigurement. As occurred every day, tears filled her eyes. The sight of lives lost was not something that even months of seasoning could mitigate.

Most crushing of all was the sight of her fellow empyreans. Unmistakable and dazzling even in death, the blue-tinted beings laid, their semi-immortal lives cut short by demons, hulking bokoblins, and other infernal beasts. Though bloodless, the empyreans' deaths were just as terrible as those of the surface creatures; perhaps even worse.

Fi's race was sacred, created for the sole purpose of doing the honorable work of the Goddesses. Until called upon by the deities, this race of mostly females lived out eternity in Empyrea, the realm just below the heavens, never to experience death unless blighted by a tragedy.

To be an empyrean was once coveted.

Then, the demon realm unleashed its fury, terrorizing and murdering all in its path in the name of conquest. The Golden Power of the Goddesses, the Triforce, was the demon king's incurable desire.

But, in response, a vindicator, a son of man reserved and raised up by the Goddesses themselves, set out. Solitary and courageous, every facet of his power, wisdom and courage was tested. With an eye on punishing the wicked, he completed his long journey, delivering what would transform the entirety of the enemy's realm into a shadow of its former self. And he did it gladly.

With the humans and their consecrated Goddess Statue raised into the safety of the sky realm, the empyreans descended to defend, to fight, and to die for the one in whom the three Goddesses had entrusted the Golden Power–the Goddess Hylia.

In the hands of Hylia, the one whose three virtues were balanced, the Triforce fulfilled its purpose, bringing peace and prosperity to the world. This was the Golden Age.

But, evil lusted for the powerful relic of the Gods of Olde.

In the hands of one undeserving of the power, all goodness would cease, devoured by every deadly sin in existence.

With his newly constructed weapon, the hero, in kind with the relic which he sought to protect, reached his full potential. Taking up life as a humble servant and casting himself aside, Link embraced his destiny.

When the war was still young, Fi saw him for the first time. His image would be burned into her memory forever. With hair the color of the sun, eyes the shade of an empyrean sky, and tunic the hue of the rolling hills that lay beneath them, this human was exceptional. Inside and out, he was a representation of the Goddess' world, and everything within it that they held dear.

With both soldiers holding positions as Hylia's chosen – one, the hero, the other, the commander of the Goddess's guard – the two came across each other in their frequent dealings with their leader. At first, the two never spoke.

Fi, giving obtrusiveness full rein, watched Link from afar. He was stern, that much could be educed, especially for one so young. One would never have known that he had seen but twenty yearly harvests in his surface realm. Surely his yearlong excursion to obtain his holy blade had shaped him, tempered him in ways that would put that shining weapon to shame.

As Hylia addressed them, and all of those under them, Fi would examine him secretly, storing what little information she could glean during their distant, short-lived meetings.

The assuredness of his posture. The cut of his gaze. The astuteness of his husky yet mellow voice which was oft wondered about but rarely heard. In all of her years, she had never come across his equal.

The scholarly woman wanted more of him.

Hylia's speeches habitually fell on deaf ears, for Fi's usually focused mind was diverted.

Being an empyrean, Fi had little experience with humans. The extent of the empyreans' knowledge was that the human race needed protection, and that it was their calling to provide it for them. They would leave the paradise was Empyrea to lay their lives down, should the need ever arise.

It was only natural for Fi, a lover of science, mathematics and philosophy, to be drawn to one such as Hylia's hero. He was unusual, after all, a human _and_ a warrior. There was no one else like him.

But, there was more brewing than curiosity.

Over the months she would see him intermittently, though she doubted that he noticed her. His eyes were elusive, and his motivations seemed wholly devoted to Hylia's will. For a time, Fi would yearn for his undivided attention.

Battling in the sun, the rain, and the snow, the Master Sword glimmered, reflecting the very world which it was profoundly committed - along with its wielder - to save. From a distance, she heard the shouts and cries of a man determined. Rarely, she would gain the opportunity to fight beside him, witnessing his renowned skill with the blade of evil's bane. All enemies in the vicinity trembled. Some fled, but most fell.

Most, but not all.

There were some demons who posed a great challenge. Having fought in and survived previous wars, these beings were old, practiced, and vicious. Some the Master Sword did indeed slay. Others slipped through the hero's grasp, only to rise against him in battle once more.

Among them, only one would leave both Fi and the hero with a lasting impression.

The horror of combat, the eerie stillness of the overly quiet mornings, the strained conversation during meals in the camps, the fight to get even a few minutes of sleep… Everything worked against the soldiers to change them, both for better, and for worse. Families and homes were missed. Not knowing who would be the next to die wore on even the bravest of them.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of both Fi _and_ the hero. Gazes met, changing cautious stares to guarded smiles. Not wanting to overstep a boundary, Fi waited for his approach.

Amazingly, it came.

Months before the last battle when winter was fading, Fi stood guard before the door of Hylia's temple. That night, her assignment was as routine and relaxing as it always was. Hylia's realm seemed to repel the evil that the Goddess' power attracted.

There was a novel warmth in the air. Balminess had pervaded the dry cold that had become customary on the surface. The infusion of heat was relieving for anyone used to the ideal conditions of Empyrea. Fi was quite pleased when she realized that her breath was no longer turning into frosty mist. It had been so many long, dragged out weeks since she had experienced this.

As soon as she had puckered her mouth to blow a steamy, yet _invisible _cloud into the air, she realized that someone was near. She completely froze. With lips stuck in place, she turned her head to the right.

Grinning, Link stood with gloved hands clasped behind him. His bare fingers fluttered, playing with the bottom of his scabbard. Fi thought she saw a twinkle in his eye. She pursed her lips.

After a full minute of silence, Link's smile infected her. Shifting timidly, Fi finally heard him say, 'Hi'. She would never forget the way that his voice sounded that day.

As a changing wind swept across the sacred grounds, they had their first conversation; the first of many. Lightening the mood, Fi joked about whether or not chance had played a role in their 'chance meeting'. Perhaps Hylia, in all of her wisdom, had stationed them together on purpose. They both shared a good chuckle over the notion.

Finally, after months of perusing one another, the pair became acquainted while on duty together.

Weeks passed. Even though Link was slowly coming to value Fi's company, he never seemed to say much. But, he was quickly won over by the commander's attractive disposition.

She was an unfathomable amount older than him – as well as slightly taller - but the idea that age mattered swiftly vanished in a puff of smoke.

In due course, idle chat after Hylia's meetings turned into deeper conversation. It didn't take long for the two to begin spending their downtime together.

As time went on, keeping away from one another became an impossibility.

They talked about everything, from the eternal beauty of Empyrea to the hardships of winters on the surface. Fi would sit quietly whenever he spoke, eager to hear what he was willing to share. She found him fascinating, impelling him to talk about any and all subjects that were fit to be discussed between a male and a female. Most of the time, he complied.

Her admiration for him was not left unrequited. Genuine elation graced her for the first time since the war had begun when he began asking _her_ questions. With enthusiasm, she offered him whatever knowledge he desired. He would soon come to return the favor, telling her about the life that he had led prior to taking up the Goddess' mission.

Once the ice between them had been broken, Fi found herself longing for Link's company when he wasn't around. She started preferring it over that of other empyreans. Her peers took notice, observing the pair as they grew closer. Some questioned her, asking if their relationship was anything serious. Knowing how bizarre it must look for a human and an empyrean to be close, she would hastily quash their suspicions. Not that everyone believed her, of course.

Lonely travel became a thing of the past for them, as did visits to the field hospital, located in a section of the Temple of Hylia. Whether they were receiving medical treatment or visiting comrades, they would stick together.

Hours were spent comforting one another during the passing of friends, an all too common occurrence. Nothing could be done to take the pain away, but the warmth of each other's arms would always provide relief.

They went off together more and more frequently, fulfilling the requests of their leader jointly whenever possible. On more than a few occasions, their subordinates were left hanging, wondering why their superiors were late…again.

Apart, their immovable sense of obligation thrived, overflowing to all others around them. The respect and adoration awarded them was more than deserved.

But, together, the hero and the commander were prone to losing their concentration. Garnering intrigued looks, the two discreetly carried on. Sometimes they would laugh – a thing practically unseen around the camps.

Fi had even danced for him once, an intimate act for an empyrean. He was left speechless, but not for the usual reasons.

Individually, the two were deeply loved. When brought together, they were a beacon of light, encouraging and guiding those entwined in the impenetrable darkness of the times. They were illustrations of a time long passed; an unceasing reminder of what was being fought so diligently for. So much so, that not one soldier had a problem overlooking their little mistakes.

Even though Link had slowly started to open up, he was still a man of few words. But, when Fi compared his current amiability to his previously hushed ways, it was clear that he had changed quite a bit. Whenever they were separated, she would think about how far they had come, grateful for everything that had developed between them. They had become true friends.

In time, to Fi's delight, the hero started to talk more openly. Yet, she knew that he was holding something back.

The facts revealed through his body language were plain as day. He was not entirely comfortable here. He would speak of his old home - a small village to the north of Eldin Province. He spoke of a young lady. His voice was stoic, but his eyes exposed his sadness. He confided in Fi to an extent, telling her that he missed his friends and family. But, he failed to admit what their absence was doing to him.

With the rest of humanity now residing in the sky, he was one of the few left of his kind. Free of all peril, everyone that he knew was moving on and building a new life, all without him.

A small group of the bravest humans stayed on the surface, refusing to flee. Hylia had allowed them to stay, knowing that these individuals would never be content to live out their lives as refugees while war flourished beneath their feet.

One by one, the hero watched many of his fellow humans die, succumbing for their lack of skill. Those created in the image of the Gods of Olde were a peaceful race, and knew very little of fighting, let alone war. War was an enterprise sanctioned for the empyreans. _They_ were taught the ways of combat. The humans were not.

Hylia's chosen was a special case. With ingrained interest in sword fighting and archery since childhood, he easily developed his fighting skills during the quest for the Master Sword. In every way, he was incomparable, maturing into a living, breathing mirror image of the Triforce.

As each battle grew fiercer and stretched for longer periods, Link and Fi's time together was reduced.

Many short, melancholy talks were had in the moonlight. In the rain they would huddle underneath Link's shield, thanking the Goddesses for their many blessings. Every moment that they were able to hear each other's voices, hold hands, and embrace one another had become invaluable. Whether or not either of them would survive another night of fighting was a mystery. Each meeting might have been their last.

Nothing was certain. Very little was fixed. The demons were tough and changeable.

But, they were not without their weaknesses. Most from the demon realm were light-sensitive. To Hylia's army, the sun was an ally. To the demons and most of their comrades, it was an indomitable enemy, keeping them away from battle until the light had begun to fail.

The surface tribes harbored their own flaws, as well. The demon realm was too inhospitable for most surface creatures to dwell in for very long. Lack of sun, nourishment and drinkable water aside, the arid air of the realm was enough to poison a foreigner. Invading the realm was out of the question. Because of this, the enemy would always have a sanctuary to fall back on.

Eventually, the demons set up camp on the surface, expanding into new territory and gradually becoming lightfast.

The threat of night ambushes, the defense of precious food sources, the possibility of sending spies to their deaths - everything that this bloody war entailed would soon, thank the heavens, be a memory.

A feeling of comfort warmed over Fi as her overburdened mind lolled in the cushion of a daydream.

Disentangling herself from her private tangent, she slowly came back to the present.

If only for a moment, a smile flashed over her lips. In this place, overmastered by a setting late-summer sun, death's overpowering presence was inescapable. Yet, so was the joy in her spirit for the victory achieved by Hylia's army; a mishmash of races, of thousands of individuals with vastly different backgrounds. That a muddled defense force like this could unify at all was a miracle in itself. Despite language barriers, the humans and empyreans were somehow able to work with the various surface creatures.

Over the course of the war, the mogmas and ancient robots adapted effortlessly to the Hylian language. The gorons, however, were still learning. They spoke only a few words of the language. The kikwis, as well as the parella, didn't speak any.

The price of victory for these beings had been heavy. Many had died, but none had done so in vain.

As Fi marched, she blinked away the tears. The time would come for all of those left in the war's wake to mourn for and to celebrate the lives of those who had passed away.

But, the time was not now.

Exiting the southeastern section of the expanse between the Eldin, Lanayru and Faron Provinces, Fi tried not to look at the deceased. Despite her efforts, her peripheral vision registered enough details to tell her who she was passing. Her lip trembled in anguish as she tried not to trip over sprawled hands and feet. Pools of blood were soaking into the grass, transforming the overwhelmingly green field into a muddied shadow land.

She had the faintest sense that she was being watched. Turning in a circle, she searched through open field and darkened grove. Her sharp eyes picked up no one.

What she _did_ see was countless empyrean corpses, thousands of years old, as aged as the oldest of the demons. She saw soldiers from her own legion, sworn to flank Hylia and her chosen hero.

"Commander…"

A strangled murmur slashed through Fi's thought. In an instant, she made a path between the bodies, gliding to where the small voice had come from. She crouched down, bringing her face to the one who had called out to her.

An empyrean man. He was barely breathing, his body was broken and mangled, and his face was almost unrecognizable, save for a small mark on his right ear. Fi's mouth dropped as she realized who he was. This was a friend, a former neighbor of hers from the metropolis which had been her home for centuries, before she was summoned to the surface.

This man had been a soldier under her command since the beginning. His name was Za. He was a professor of music, a carpenter, and a husband.

Fi shut her eyes, trying to will the tears away. Her face was on the brink of twisting with grief, but she had to be strong for him.

"Com-" he said, choking. He sounded as if he was already miles away. "I'm s-" Fi shook her head. "I'm sor-" She grabbed his hand in haste, squeezing it as if to suppress his words.

"No," she said soothingly, stroking his trembling hand. She locked eyes with him, knowing that he needed the connection.

"Pl-" he whispered. Fi leaned in. "Please, F-"

"What, Za?" she asked.

"Please… Fi… Tell…"

"Yes?"

"Tell her… That I… She-"

"I will, Za," Fi said, her voice breaking away. The urge to cry was becoming unbearable. Her throat tightened like a vice. She kept her head low, not moving until she was sure that her friend had breathed his last.

Thank the heavens that the sun was almost down. The darkness was Fi's only means of avoiding the horrific images.

Casting her gaze away, she was struck by another memory.

The vivid image of a man danced before her. A pale-skinned captain in the enemy's army, strong yet graceful, with the eyes of a dark angel. In form, he mirrored most others of his kind. Outright, he was nothing extraordinary. With his tall, proud stature and long white hair that was secured behind him, he looked exactly like his fellow demons.

But, looks were oftentimes deceiving.

Fi had first encountered him several weeks prior to the battle in Hylia's realm, focused and fully engaged on a field near the desert to the west. She had seen him fighting, killing without mercy. His skills were impeccable.

Notwithstanding his distinguishable merits, his carmine uniform, overlaid by a shining iron breastplate, showed signs of wear. Whether it was from the tears in the thick fabric around his upper arms, the lacerations on his black vambraces, or the deep, red gash that trailed down the side of his face, it was clear that he had taken some hits. A nearly inconceivable concept for someone as slate of hand as he. But, it only confirmed what Fi already knew: Hylia's army contained its own champions.

Not only did the demon wield a rapier with elegant precision, but he was a magic user, displaying a fearsome mastery, unique among those of his realm. In her travels on the surface, Fi had learned that some, though not many, demons practiced magic. This demon, however, possessed a vast knowledge of the black arts; the dark twin of the power utilized by the empyreans. Wholly singular was his level of skill.

One afternoon, the sky was as red as an ocean of blood. The drift of battle pulled Fi and the demon together like a wave to the seashore.

In the midst of defending herself against another, she performed an evasive spin. Unexpectedly, her quick footwork brought her face to face with the unnamed stranger. A huge, black gaze framed by brown met exotic eyes of hyacinth.

With body suspended, Fi's penetrating countenance withered, caught in the stare of one unknown to her. He paused as well, looking equally shocked. His weapon sank down as loose wisps of hair clung to his face. Her heartbeat pulsed in her neck. Agape, the two faltered, not knowing whether to strike, to risk escape, or to surrender.

To surrender what, neither warrior knew.

The junction was fast and fleeting, over almost as soon as it had begun. The charge of soldiers and the chaos of mêlée tore the meeting in half, placing each participant on his or her own respective path, never to see each other in combat again.

Now, Fi wondered if he was still alive…

Minute after minute she hiked, leaving one meadow behind to enter a new one. Her brain was spent, yet the onslaught of thoughts just wouldn't stop.

Over the last day and a half, Fi had been pulled away from Hylia's realm; but, not until she had witnessed the demon king's defeat with her own eyes.

Once she and her fellow soldiers had aided Hylia and her chosen in weakening Demise's horde, Link dealt the final blow, demonstrating to every living being in attendance, including the demon king, why he had been chosen in the first place.

It had been an incredible sight to see.

With the great Demise forced to genuflect before the ones who had secured his defeat, the ground beside the Temple of Hylia lurched and quaked, responding to the Goddess's power as she partitioned the land, carving a deep chasm within it. With a terrifying shout, the demon king fell through the surface, chased by the Goddess as she worked to pour every ounce of her strength into a permanent seal, enough to hold Demise in imprisonment for all of eternity. Trapped by this barrier, the immeasurable evil would never escape. He would be locked away, stripped of the ability to terrorize the humans and all other tribes of the surface.

With the first of the ritual complete, Fi submitted to Hylia's orders to go where she deemed best. Almost two days later – right now- she finally felt the urge to return to her leader. She looked forward to seeing Link, as well.

After navigating acres of hills and woodlands, the empyrean commander arrived at what was now called the Sealed Grounds. It was teeming with fighters of all races. Excitement burgeoned and a celebration was on the verge of erupting. Hylia deserved to be glorified for her efforts, but, the festivities would have to wait.

Everyone was fatigued and overextended. The scuffles still carried on outside of the woods. Stranded soldiers desperately needed aid, rousing all of those able-bodied to move out. Brandishing all weapons in their possession, they headed out, raring to put an end to the remnants of the last battle; to bring the fighting to a close, for good.

As Fi approached the now secure realm of Hylia, fighters of all sizes were coming and going. Saluting the drained empyrean, many rushed past her. She simply nodded at each of them, sidestepping the bodies of those who had fallen during the conflict. She could feel the rumblings of mogmas on the move beneath her feet. Strong vibrations seized the ground as gorons rolled by. Kikwis lumbered past with huge, measured steps.

By the order of Hylia, nearly everyone in the area was rapidly dispersing. Fi secretly hoped that the Goddess would not send her out again. Not until she had rested. She was exhausted. The sky was getting darker by the second, meaning that retaliation attacks were on their way. She would be utterly useless if she didn't get at least a little bit of sleep.

Fi stopped at the edge of the massive crater. She looked down, studying the spiraling walkway that ran along the sides.

When Hylia and the hero had finished their work in the newly formed pit, she created the walkway for ease of access, both for those in the present time, as well as the future. From where Fi stood, the two looked quite small against the grandeur of the basin. She breathed in the refreshing breeze as it blew through her hair, grateful that the Goddess and her hero were still on their feet. Fi didn't move as the pair ascended the winding dirt path.

She watched Link as he assisted Hylia. She started to smile. Even after the most arduous trial he had ever participated in, he was still as dedicated as ever, putting others first. She shook her head, never surprised by his fidelity, but always amazed.

Suddenly, Fi couldn't help but notice that Hylia was favoring her left leg. She was also leaning on Link quite a bit.

Concerned, Fi made her way to where the crater's pathway met level ground. The Temple of Hylia stood to her right as she picked up her pace. Disregarding her own weariness, she ran to meet the Golden Goddess' most important soldiers.

"Your Grace!" Fi called as she finally finished circling the chasm. "Are you alright?" She halted at the top of the path, observing Hylia's limp. A sword was gripped in her right hand. In her other, which hung over Link's shoulder, was a golden, ten-string harp.

Although she was injured, she looked magnificent. She always did. She wore a heavy but queenly long-sleeved, sorrel garment, fitted at the top and full-skirted at the bottom. She was tall, but only slightly more so than Link.

Tossing most of her caution to the wind, Fi approached the blond-haired Goddess.

"May I?" she asked, offering an arm. Hylia lifted the soft, refined features of her face to her faithful servant. Her ice blue eyes widened.

"Of course…" she said regally, sounding out of breath. Exchanging a fretful glance with Link, who appeared reasonably winded himself, Fi bent to take Hylia's weight over her left shoulder.

Together, the three shambled to Hylia's temple, gathering a small group of worried soldiers along the way. Before they even made it to the door of the large, stone building, several human and empyrean nurses in long brown robes were waiting to receive them. They passed between two small, burning torches.

The building was glorious and perfect, with every stone in place. Vines of deep green climbed along its pillars, walls and windows. This sacred place, housing three marble likenesses of the Golden Goddesses atop a large altar in its center, had been Hylia's dwelling place for the duration of the war. In her kindness, she had opened the left wing to those most gravely injured, refusing to allow them to endure the elements from within a tent hospital in the woods. Some of these soldiers would never stand again. She insisted that they pass in comfort.

Not only that, but there was something about the temple that the enemy found disagreeable. No demon or their allies had ever set foot inside of this sanctuary.

Before long, Hylia was whisked to the right side of the temple. A flurry of feet scuffled along the stone floor as the Goddess was escorted to her private chambers. Torches crowding every partition brightened the temple as if by sunlight. A makeshift, red silk canopy hung from each adjoining wall in the corner.

The soignée woman reclined beneath it on her velvety daybed, dipping her head to the curved rest behind her. The nurses clumped together, all scrambling to hand her what they had retrieved: water, hot cloths and pain-relieving herbs. Fi nodded to herself, confident that she was going to be fine.

After leaving her heavenly realm, the Goddess' body became like that of an empyrean: tough, yet capable of sustaining injury. Even though she did not bleed when she was hurt, she was still able to feel pain. And, like an empyrean, she was impervious to healing through conventional means, such as surgery. Plain old rest and relaxation was her, as well as Fi's, only option for recovery.

Link was quickly tended to as well, much to his dismay. When Fi's gaze turned from the Goddess to the young man, she discovered that he looked a lot worse than she had first realized. Hylia's condition had distracted her from his disheveled state. He had several cuts, welts and bruises. His green tunic was shredded down to the chainmail. She gasped softly, mentally reproving herself for overlooking her closest friend's wounds. She was never that unobservant.

For a time, Fi watched from a distance. It took several minutes and a direct order for the nurses to let Hylia and the hero be. Giving the Goddess space, Link stayed in the opposing corner. This resting area had been made up for him weeks earlier as a way to encourage him to sleep more. He hardly ever used it, though. In fact, Hylia had to order him away from the battlefield several times to ensure that not only was he stopping to rest, but that his injuries were being properly cared for.

Link had a distinct way of ignoring his own needs in the name of duty. Convincing him to rest in the evening, after he had been locked into a string of battles for days, was borderline impossible. Hoards of demons were most likely to attack at night, and this meant that no matter how exhausted he felt, he was not satisfied unless he was either guarding his camp, or running into battle with everyone else.

Fi stifled a grin as she watched him fidget on his bed. He was dying to get out there, to do his part in quelling the last of the fighting.

But, there he sat, with no shoes, no cloak and no shirt. His chest and arms were wrapped in gauze. His face was scratched, but clean. His hair could have used a good brushing, however.

Holding her hands behind her, Fi rounded the corner that separated them.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, taking a seat beside him. Link stared at his blistered hands.

"Fine," he said. The dull murmur of nurses and patients rose and fell in the background, accompanied only by the soft crackle of fire.

"Fine? That's all? Just fine?" Link brought his red-tinged eyes up.

"Yeah," he replied. Fi snickered.

"I expected to hear something a little more exhilarant from the man who just slew the one responsible for the deaths of thousands of humans, and the destruction of dozens of your towns and villages." She paused. "You know?"

"You and your long, wordy sentences," Link calmly teased. "And I didn't _slay_ him. I just brought him down a notch so Hylia could do what she needed to do." He looked at her as if that was all that needed to be said. She smiled and shook her head in her usual way.

"You're too modest, Link. You just did something extraordinary. I've seen a lot. You know that." She leaned closer. "And Demise is the most terrifying entity I've ever come across." They both fell silent for a moment. Link gave a reluctant nod.

"Yeah… I guess it was a little scary to face him, after waiting for so long."

"I don't know of anyone in this camp who hasn't been plagued by nightmares in recent weeks," Fi said. "It's like everyone knew that the horror was coming. I think everybody will agree that the bravery you just exhibited is _astonishing_."

"Well, thanks."

"You're welcome, noble hero," Fi said wryly, wishing he would give himself a bit more credit. She took his hand, attempting to pull his attention away from his callouses. His eyes shifted. "You seem distracted. Is something wrong?" At last, Link looked her in the eye.

"To be honest, I don't want to be sitting here right now…"

"Oh, of course," Fi sighed. "But, you fought alongside Hylia for hours. You're injured, Link. Look at you. You _need_ to rest. The other legions will take care of the stragglers out in the field. Just have faith."

"It's not that I don't have faith…" he started.

"I know. You _have_ to be at the helm or you think you're dishonoring Her Grace." Fi cracked a little smile. "I know you too well." Link glanced at his shield and Master Sword. Leaning against the wall, the blade no longer reflected violence, but the gentle glow of torchlight. Fi examined Link's restless expression, concluding that his weapon's inertness was paining him more than the incisions and punctures that the nurses had just bandaged. "It's alright, Link."

"It's been a year and a half," Link said. "Since I left my home to find the sword, anyway. It's been four seasons of nonstop fighting, and watching people die all around me…" His voice quieted. "I don't know how to be anything but a soldier." His blue eyes pierced through Fi's. "It's not alright for me to sit here." Fi rubbed his hand.

"I understand," she said. "I'm sure after you've slept for a little while that Hylia will-"

"It might be over by then," Link interjected, surprising Fi with his insistent tone. She was used to him silently asserting his opinions and orders. Somehow, people always listened and understood. She didn't say anything for a moment.

"There are other things to consider right now," she said, aiming to distract him.

"What else could possibly be worth considering right now?"

"Well," Fi said, crossing her legs and turning toward him. "Now that your objective is complete, and the threat is sealed away…" She looked deeper into his eyes. "You can start thinking about the future."

Fi suddenly felt as though her statement had been too forward. Link's silence made her nervous. She wondered what he was thinking.

"I mean…" She started to say. Even with centuries' worth of knowledge in her brilliant mind, her tongue was prone to tying itself in knots in certain situations; especially when she was with Link. She rolled her eyes at herself. She didn't want him to think she was suggesting anything… "I mean, now that peace is on the horizon, _finally_, we can start getting back to our lives again." She bit her tied tongue, feeling inarticulate. "You know?" Link stared for a few more seconds.

"Well, it's going to take me a while to settle into a regular civilian life," Link admitted, looking down again. "After all this, I don't really know if I can…"

"Everyone can relate to that," Fi said, trying to ease his worries. He seemed more tense than usual, even though he had just accomplished something unheard of for a human. "But, when you're ready, where do you think you'll go? To stay?"

Fi had been waiting to ask this question. She stiffened, trying to conceal her eagerness.

"Oh, well…" he said slowly. "Ever since I left home, I couldn't wait to go back to my village. But then it was destroyed…" He paused to think. "When everyone I knew was sent to the sky, I wanted to follow them. I wanted to stay here and fight, but I really wanted to be with my family, too. So many times, I've dreamed of dying, of never being able to see them again. All I wanted was to go to the sky, to see what it looked like up there, and to join everyone again… I mean, you know that. I've told you that over and over." Fi tapped her foot.

"So, you made up your mind?" Fi asked.

"No, actually. I uh…" Fi's glowing eyes broadened. "I don't know if I'll be going to the sky."

"But, you've always wanted to. Isn't there a…young lady there, waiting for you?" She held her breath, feeling silly inside. She didn't know why this mattered so much to her. She was an age-old empyrean. He was a human…

"Well, yeah." He shrugged. "There is, but…" He looked to Fi as if he didn't know what to say. Or, perhaps he did know, but he didn't want to say it. "I dunno, Fi. The thing is, we've all changed so much. I've changed a lot. Somehow, I just feel like I don't belong there…"

Fi was taken aback. She knew that he was having trouble making a decision, but to hear this—

"Link? Commander Fi?" The two automatically jumped up at the sound of Hylia's voice.

"Yes, Your Grace?" they both said. Still resting her head, Hylia gently gestured for them to approach her.

"How are you feeling, Your Grace?" Fi asked. They both stood at attention as she gingerly lifted her body into a sitting position. Fi looked her over. Only a Goddess could don a long dress in battle…

"For a semi-immortal, not bad," Hylia answered with a stately nod. Fi nodded back. "How are you feeling, Link?"

"Fine, Your Grace," he said, standing up straighter.

"Are you in pain?" she asked.

"Not much," Link replied. Fi eyed him, knowing he was lying.

"I would prefer you to stay out of harm's way," Hylia said sternly. "The skirmishes will soon end, and the dead will have to be collected. You may take part in this task, but you are not to fight. Is that clear?"

Her voice was kind, yet unyielding. She knew exactly what Link was thinking, and what he wanted. Fi could sense his body stiffening and heating up in protest. She heard him grind his teeth.

"Yes, Your Grace," he forced himself to say. Fi looked away, feeling poorly for him.

"Thank you," Hylia said, brushing her luxurious golden waves over her shoulder. "We have much to discuss with your fellow commanders. We will be gathering tomorrow. Eldin, Faron and Lanayru will be in attendance. There is a matter of great concern that must be addressed at once." Link and Fi exchanged looks.

"What is it, Your Grace?" Fi asked.

"I will explain the matter in detail later on," Hylia explained, pressing the cloth-wrapped herbs to her neck. "However, I feel that-."

"Is something wrong, Your Grace?" Fi interrupted. Link gave her a questioning look. Fi stepped back. "I'm sorry I…spoke out of line. I just sense that something is wrong…"

"It is quite alright," Hylia assured her, holding up an elegant hand. "As I would expect, your instincts are correct." Her listeners felt their stomachs drop. "This concerns both of you, as well as those in the sky realm-" She looked to Link. "—and the surface realm. It will eventually affect those in Empyrea, as well."

Hylia's words were always urgently heeded. Now, however, they commanded even more reverence. Link and Fi didn't move a muscle.

"The wound through my shoulder, dealt by Demise's blade," she continued, placing a hand on the cloth draped over the bare skin, "left me significantly weakened. As I infused the sealing stake within Demise with the power of the Golden Goddesses, my strength was lacking. Regrettably, the seal itself is incomplete." Because Link had been directly involved with the ritual, he was the first to speak up.

"Your Grace, are you saying that the seal needs to be reinforced?" His eyes brightened. "If so, I'll gladly accompany you to the Sealed Grounds." Hylia's angelic face softened.

"Thank you, Link, but unfortunately, the seal cannot be strengthened. Not without completely removing the stake. In doing so, we run the risk of awakening the one in whom you fought so valiantly to overcome. We cannot risk unleashing the very danger that we have worked for so long to subdue. We simply _cannot_." She looked back and forth between the two soldiers. After a moment, they both gave her an understanding nod.

"I see, Your Grace," Fi said. "If the barrier which imprisons Demise is imperfect, then something must be done. What do you propose we do?"

"Yes, Commander, something must be done." Hylia buried her cracked fingernails into each of her cloths. "There will come a time when the ritual will recommence. But, this advent, which will precede a great apocalypse, will not come to pass in this age. No, it will not be seen for three millennia." Once again, the two friends were speechless for a moment.

"Three thousand years?" Fi asked. Link's jaw had dropped considerably.

"Indeed," Hylia said. "By the Goddess' will, another hero will arise." Link's eyebrow came up.

"Another hero?" he asked. "Will he be human?" Hylia gave him a warm smile.

"They usually are," she said furtively.

"Are my people gonna stay in the sky?" Link asked. "Is that where he'll come from?" Fi leaned over and silently rebuked him with her eyes, reminding him to get a grip on his newly escaped etiquette. "…Your Grace," Link added in. Hylia's airy grin showed that all was well.

"Yes, Link, your race will remain in the clouds. They have already built much of what they have come to call, their 'loft in the clouds'." All at once, Link looked like an awed little boy.

"'Loft in the clouds'," he said with fascination. "I'm gonna have to see this place." He looked to Fi. His change of heart lifted a massive weight from her shoulders. She had never seen him so excited. "Fi, do you want t-" He turned back to Hylia.

"Dismissed," she said with a hint of a chuckle. Link nodded before pivoting. He grabbed his linen shirt and slipped it over his head as he marched outside, leaving his clothing on the daybed. Fi followed close behind, catching the first few notes of the Goddess's harp as she left.

"Fi, did you hear that?" Link asked outside the temple door. He straightened the collar of his long-sleeved beige shirt. Running a hand under her silky hair, Fi stepped beside him, watching the flurry of activity around the crater. The moon's bright aura was raining down tonight, pushing its way through the clouds. "The 'loft in the sky'. I wonder what it looks like."

"They've had over a year to construct their villages. I'm sure it's splendid. Humans are superb builders."

"There're a lot of people from my own village who I know would've helped. I bet they're still building. I wonder if they created a replica of our old village." A daydream tried to snag him, but he instantly shook it off. "Oh, Fi, I was gonna ask you…" He rotated to face her. Fi stopped breathing. Link had never been this impassioned about anything. She secretly looked forward to whatever words might tumble out of his mouth. "Would you like to…" In a reticent moment, his mouth wavered. "Do you want to-"

"I'd love to," Fi blurted out. She stared at Link, a bit shocked at herself.

"You would?" Link asked with a flickering smile. His hand rose to hers. Fi looked down as she felt his touch.

"Of course. I would love to meet everyone that you've talked about all these months. I've heard so much about them. They feel like my own family." The glow on Link's face assured her that she'd said the right thing.

"I can't wait," he said with a long exhale. Fi beamed. It was fantastic to see him so happy.

But, when he turned a blank gaze toward the edge of the woods beyond the Sealed Grounds, her chorus of blissful thoughts immediately hushed. She tilted her head, studying his blue eyes.

They appeared to be almost glazed over…just like the deceased mogma earlier. She squeezed Link's hand.

"Link?" she chimed softly. He didn't budge. "Link?"

Twitching, his focus returned to his friend. In the dim light, Fi thought she saw him blush; something she had never witnessed.

"Sorry, I thought I heard something," he nearly garbled.

"I thought you seemed distracted earlier, too," Fi admitted. "Is something bothering you? Is it Demise? What you just went through? Maybe something Hylia said about the seal?"

"I'm not sure," he said, shuffling his feet. "Maybe…"

"Don't feel bad. You've had it rougher than anyone this past year and a half. _No one_ can argue with that." Looking away, he sighed through his nose. His breath swirled into the air.

"I guess."

"Not 'I guess'. 'I _know'_," she corrected. He started to loosen.

"Yes, mother," he joked.

"You know what I smell?" Fi asked. "Our marvelous chefs preparing something delicious."

"Smells like someone went fishing," Link noted. "And hunting. Venison, I think."

"As keen a nose as ever," Fi laughed. "A celebration dinner, maybe?"

"A little early for that. Probably tomorrow."

"Speaking of tomorrow," Fi said, "we've got a lot of work to do. We have a meeting with the commanders and guardians, and we have casualty duty. I don't know about you, but I'm _tired_."

"What do you wanna do, eat and go to sleep?" Link asked.

"Would be wise, yes."

"I'd rather be out there," he said, looking toward the field. "Even though I'm starving right now."

"Well, you have your orders," Fi reminded him. "Don't disobey Hylia."

"I know," Link mumbled.

"Looks like we'll be eating late tonight," Fi said. "I don't think the food's ready yet." She looked her friend over yet again. "Aren't you freezing? This is the coldest night we've had since last winter ended, and you're _barefoot_." Link scratched the back of his head.

"Yeah, you're right. Guess I'm too used to summer. I'll go get my stuff."

"Meet you in the 'mess hall' in a little bit?" Link gestured his approval. "Great. I'm looking forward to it." With a departing nod, Link reentered the temple, leaving Fi to warm her hands over one of the torches. She covertly admired his upper body from behind, noting how bulked up he had become since their first meeting. Not only had endless fighting given him impressive muscle tone, but he was transitioning from a teenager to a man. As he disappeared, she cleared her throat and waved her fingers over the flames. She shook her head at herself.

It wasn't long before Fi had gravitated toward the small clearing to the south of Hylia's Temple. The grounds were bustling. The energy about the dining area was electric. The high of victory spared no one.

Just being there lifted Fi's spirits. They were hoisted straight to the floating island in the sky.

Its huge shadow could be seen through the heavy curtain of cloud. Fi lifted a contented smile to the dark silhouette.

A short time ago, she never would have guessed that a simple invitation from a human could make her so happy. In fact, it made her century. Maybe even her millennium.

Before taking a seat with a group of lady empyreans, Fi searched for Link's characteristic green tunic and blond hair. He didn't seem to be there yet.

Telling herself to be patient, Fi sat down and joined in on the excited chatter. She laughed. If every one of the two dozen wooden tables was abuzz with the same topic that her friends were discussing, then Link and Hylia's earlier performance was the talk of the camp. Fi surveyed from the tables to the trees, hoping that Link was around to hear this. When she didn't see him, she delved further into the conversation.

Minutes slipped past unnoticed as Fi's attention was diverted.

No one was foolish enough to believe that all danger had been vanquished, or that the work was over. In spite of the fact that the most perilous portion of their journey was behind them, there was so much more that needed to be done.

But, tonight, no one was interested in suppressing their joy. It was impossible not to rejoice a little bit. Emotions ran high. Much laughter was shared, and many tears were shed. This was a night that countless had waited for. At last, the deaths of so many innocents had been avenged.

Fi ate her meal in the company of those she loved and trusted. She would never forget how something that promised only death could not only renew old relationships, but build new ones.

As stories were shared, both joyous and tragic, Fi and her friends ate and drank their fill.

Just as everyone began to clean up and disband, she realized that Link had never come. Holding her dishes, her eyes darted from table to table.

He definitely wasn't here.

Fi bit her lip. Link had told her that he was going to meet her. He had also said that he was hungry… Why hadn't he shown? This wasn't like him.

Worry promptly gripped her.

Dropping her plate to the table, she ran back to the temple, her leather boots thudding against the grass. Her mind drew a horrid picture, flipping her stomach—

Link - behind Hylia's red drape, with only his bare feet visible - dutifully offering himself to her in any way that she wished.

Flying through the dark, Fi swallowed. She had considered this before. Link was deferent enough to do it, or so she thought. This was the Goddess. She was fairer than any woman. All she needed to do was command, or perhaps _ask_… Fi grimaced.

What else would steal him from her tonight?

By the time she had reached the front of the stone structure, she was panting. She stood in the entryway for a moment, hesitating. Lowering her eyes, she pressed on, needing the truth.

She was speedily met by the sound of a dozen quiet discussions. Nurses scurried around, just as they always did.

Directly ahead, kneeling on the altar, was none other than Hylia. Her head was bowed. Her lips were aflutter. And, most importantly, Link was nowhere in sight.

Fi scoffed at her poor judgment. Why would she ever think such a thing about her gracious leader?

She was fed up with herself. She was fed up with this whole mess.

As soon as she found Link, she was going to tell him how she felt. _Exactly_ how she felt.

How she felt when he didn't join her for dinner. How jealous she would become when he and Hylia had private talks. How she had worried herself sick in the past while waiting for him to return from his missions. How ecstatic his company made her feel. The sense of loneliness that afflicted her at night when he wasn't around...

Then, she froze. Maybe Link was more hurt than he had let on…

She dashed for Hylia's chambers. Entering the enclosed area, however, all she found was an empty daybed.

If it hadn't been for two pieces of evidence – the Master Sword and shield – Fi would have concluded that Link had simply sneaked his way back into the field. But, even if he had been crazy enough to disregard Hylia's orders, he certainly wouldn't enter combat unarmed.

Fi shook her head, thinking hard. Seconds later, something peculiar caught her eye.

Link's warm, woolen tunic, cap and cloak were balled up on his bed. If he had gone anywhere, he was surely frozen.

Stranger still, his shoes and socks were in the corner.

Fi's heart skipped a beat. Now she _knew_ something was wrong.

Everyone in her path was questioned as to Link's whereabouts. None of the nurses or patients had even a scrap of knowledge. She gaped at the door.

Jogging outside, she headed for the edge of the crater. Fire blazed along its perimeter, but not in the pit. Perhaps Link had been compelled to ascend to the enemy's sealing point. She squinted, unable to tell if anyone was down there.

The racket of rolling thunder made Fi jerk to the side. Her hand shot to her chest. She peered into the black hole before her, grateful that she hadn't tumbled into it.

A goron.

With a sense of urgency that was expanding by the minute, Fi took a cleansing breath. The young goron beside her bowed his head. She nodded back.

"Fi," he said in a baritone voice. He pushed a pebble from one side of his mouth to the other with his huge tongue. The grating sound of tooth against rock made Fi cringe.

"Darmani," Fi said.

"Rrrr, hi," he rumbled.

"Darmani, have you seen Link?" Her ears perked.

"Grah, Link," Darmani said. Hopeful that the goron wasn't merely repeating her, she dug for answers.

"Do you know where he went?" He nodded. Her fervor grew. "Where?" She rocked on her toes.

The goron's burly arm came leisurely upward. His thick finger stretched out, pointing straight ahead.

Into the pitch black woods.

Fi gawked, not knowing what to think. The goron gave her a thoughtful look.

"Fi…?" he asked. But, she didn't hear him.

Unsettled, Fi began to walk around the chasm. She couldn't take her eyes off of the void that lay behind the first row of vegetation.

"Did you really go in there?" she whispered.

The question replayed itself in her head over, and over, and over.

In a tired haze, she trudged into the woods beside the Sealed Grounds. It had been a long thirty-six hours for her. For Link, as well. She had no idea what he was doing. Maybe _he_ didn't know what he was doing. She was fearful for him. She shivered, burying her hands inside of her blue cloak.

It was so cold in these woods. Perhaps colder than Hylia's realm. Why in the word would he venture into the forest at night, half-clothed?

She walked on, determined to find the answer.

The occasional rustling of leaves and twigs made her flinch, but it swiftly proved itself harmless every time. Small creatures of the night were everywhere right now…

The sound of a tree rattling stopped her in her tracks. Her throat tightened with fright.

Out of instinct, her hand came up. A bright cyan glow came forth as she prepared to strike out against the danger. Breathing heavily, she halted, seeing a blurry form leaning against a tree several yards away. Her hand lowered.

"Link?" she called, tapering her eyes. The glow of her hand started to fade.

No answer.

Her mouth was as dry as cotton. Part of her wanted to panic. She gave herself a stony headshake, refusing to give in to anxiety. She was a warrior of the Goddesses. Losing control of emotion was not becoming for someone of her status.

"Link? Will you answer me?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"He probably would if he was here," someone said.

Fi's breath jammed in her chest. Her lungs constricted.

A smooth, mellifluous voice.

Fi's hand lit up again.

"Lower your weapon," it said.

"Who are you?" Fi demanded. She looked around, wondering why she had been stupid enough to wander in here. "Have we met?" She gulped, hoping that a guise of friendliness would coax the stranger out. A concealed, unnamed person was automatically an enemy.

The figure stood up, crunching the newly fallen autumn leaves beneath his boots. Fi's face lifted up.

This man was tall. He definitely wasn't Link.

He stepped closer, but Fi stood her ground. Her hand sizzled and flared, ready to unleash its fury.

By the light of the moon, large black eyes with thin brown irises crashed into hers. She already knew who this was before she saw his long white hair and intricate coat of arms. She gritted her teeth, knowing that she had stumbled across a treacherous enemy. She was seconds away from releasing her built-up energy.

"Yes," the man said with a debonair twist of his head. "I do believe we _have_ met."


	26. What Defines Me

_*note Pipit's Austin Powers reference…_

Chapter 26

What Defines Me

It had been exactly one week since Zelda's disappearance.

As the spirit maiden and her guardian made the long northwestern trek from the Skyview Temple to the spring near Eldin Volcano, she presided over the thoughts of a young man traveling westward through the skies.

Feeling like a new man after having slept in an actual bed the previous night, Link looked down, unable to view the expanse forming the mysterious planet below. Crimson's shadow skimmed the cloud cover, flowing over the sea of soft ripples. Pipit and Hematite followed close behind. An Azurian soldier led the two young men to a place that neither of them had been since early childhood: their home.

Link was caught in a string of musings. Snippets of one daydream mixed and melded with those of another. After everything that had happened that morning, not to mention that _week_, Link had entirely too much hurtling through his brain.

_Zelda, goddesses, I miss you… I can't believe I'm going home… Zelda… Fi's story – what does it mean for me? Ghirahim and Zelda… Bringing her to safety, searching for this new sword… Hylia, what is gonna happen to us?_

He felt guilty. Guilty for coming to the surface a reckless, cavalier fool. In his high-handed pursuit, he could have been killed.

Pipit was right, as usual, which implied that the demon was right, too. What Henya had hinted at in their conversation before the Wing Ceremony had been confirmed twice over.

Link _had_ been overconfident in his dash to the surface, alone and inexperienced. Pipit's words, while harsh, were spoken out of love. Midna's concerns for his welfare had been lost on him as he forced his point, vainly shrugging her off.

Neither of them had wanted Link to go unaided, but, he had, pompously. At least _he_ thought so. In the minutes preceding his departure, he gave Midna a less than heartfelt hug, looked Pipit in the face, all but sneered, and then left, leaping from the drop-off without even an iota of desire to look back.

Prior to that, a goodbye kiss in his room had turned into a sweltering 'outercourse' session. Thank the gods that their clothing had remained intact. Thank the gods again that he had held back. At least Midna got off as a parting gift.

_We had no business doing any of that. Zelda should've been number one then. Zelda, and no one else. Certainly not myself and my own selfish needs. I'm sorry, Zel._

Link felt the heaviness of unspoken apologies.

Not a single doubt about his decision to leave had crossed his mind until he had fallen ill five days into his journey to the Skyview Temple.

He rolled his eyes. It had only taken a raging fever and waking up bound on Ghirahim's floor to make him regret his choices. Even Fi had warned him – ad nauseam– to return to Skyloft to recuperate, eat an actual meal, and sleep in a real bed. He felt his ribs, certain that he had at least a few pounds to reclaim. No wonder the demon had lobbed him around so easily - like an overly affectionate child roughhouses a small animal.

Link played idly with the downy feathers on the back of Crimson's head, feeling like a failure. Some hero he had turned out to be; _he_ had ended up the one in need of a savior. His excursion had made one thing extremely clear: no matter how noble one's intentions, failure could still win the day.

Ironically, the two people who had urged him not to depart unaccompanied had come to his rescue. Sure, Ghirahim would have let him go in one piece; that much could be deduced by the demon's own words. But, there was no telling what might have happened to Link in that deserted temple, on that cold chamber floor, if his friends hadn't come.

Then again, he had waltzed right back to the very danger that he'd been so desperate to escape, on his own accord. Perhaps it wouldn't have made a difference if he'd been left to his own pitiful devices. The only difference made was that his companions could have been hurt, or worse, killed, trying to help him.

Link's mind was racing at the speed of light. He thought about himself and the demon. He wondered why he had felt so comfortable with him in the manor; comfortable enough to lean on him, if only for a short time. He considered his compulsion to follow the demon's voice into the depths of the Faron Woods. He questioned why he had allowed his enemy to fondle him, and, most disturbingly, why he had enjoyed it.

_Enjoyed?_ he thought. Yes. Part of him had, at any rate. It was futile to deny it any longer. While most of him held nothing but hatred for the demon, a tiny, barely there whit of him had not only been pleased when the demon had violated him, but had waited for it; counted on it. When it finally happened, his entire body had rejoiced, ceding as a result of the rebellious fiber.

While the question of 'why?' was most prominent in his mind, the more practical 'is the weakness controllable?' deserved primacy. It eventually would have to be addressed.

How had General Sheik known about his dirty little secret? To have reality shoved down his throat like that during his time in the general's office was…insufferable.

Link's stomach squeezed inward and his face heated up. As if his loss of consciousness in the temple and his capture weren't bad enough.

Gods… Life had been so incomprehensibly different a week ago. An entire era separated the present time from the day that Zelda had been taken.

Addiction… Dependence… Obsession.

Three states of mind and body that Link never suspected he would have the displeasure of experiencing.

The only addiction he could have possibly been accused of in his 'former life' was his violin. That featherweight contrivance that was known to suck up countless hours of his time, day or night, weekday or weekend. Back home, study times were known to transform into private jam sessions more often than was academically sound.

…Because practicing his tremolo, martele and vibrato trills was much more fun than flipping mindlessly through textbooks. He would oftentimes begin in a book, but somehow end up with a bow in his right hand, and a violin in his left.

He would always start out quietly, mindful of Fledge's room to the right, and Cawlin and Strich's across the hall. They, especially Fledge, were sure to hear the product of each and every bow stroke through the thin walls. Still, in Link's emersion, the instrument's volume would soar, demonstrating every advanced bowing and fingering technique known to man, whether his listeners liked it or not.

Not only would everyone in building eleven hear him, but anyone within earshot of his open window would, as well. Luckily, dissonant sounds were a rarity for him, only coming to life if he was carelessly messing around.

A swift kick to his dorm room door meant one of two things: Pipit was tired of listening, or, Groose was in the building. Absorbed, Link ignored them every time. There were no rules against the playing of music in one's room at SKA. Besides that, he suspected that his instructors enjoyed the sound.

Zelda was known for spending hours in her room with her bamboo flute, and, more recently, her ten-stringed harp. Fortunately for her, no one banged her door down, or demanded that she stop. Perhaps it was because her room was on the second floor. Her father, Karane, Owlan and Horwell obviously didn't mind her playing. Pipit, as well, was gentlemanly enough to ignore the constant noise.

With a vivid memory of rich, flowing chords in his head, Link closed his eyes. He loved this simple yet sophisticated piece of polished wood that he'd owned since leaving Azuria. Not just loved, but adored. He needed it in ways that no one would ever understand—

Except, perhaps, for Midna. She played, after all…strangely enough. Midna's capacity to surprise was growing. Link needed to talk to her about these out-of-the-blue abilities of hers.

_What about my own incompetence?_ _What's going on with_ me_?_

Link had been so preoccupied that he'd failed to give his own problem the attention that it warranted. The mastery of his violin had slipped. Not just slipped, but vanished. Yesterday, his playing had resulted in nothing less than a racket. He sounded like a beginner. Even with the instrument in tune, the stroke of his bow had made the strings screech and wail. He couldn't even get an open string to sound right.

His frustration had been curbed by the unexpected arrival of two Skyloftian soldiers.

But, now, nothing was available to distract him from the truth.

A lifelong skill wouldn't simply cease to exist. It wasn't possible. That knowledge was a part of him. He couldn't forget it if he'd tried. The only ways to lose a hardwired skill would be memory loss, brainwashing, or maybe a lobotomy. Seeing as though his brain and memory were perfectly intact, something else must have caused the problem.

He knew how to play, but what he was doing – what he had always done – wasn't working. Midna had played moments before him, and it had worked well enough for her.

Odd…

A thought suddenly occurred to him. Perhaps it wasn't the violin, but the bow. He hadn't thought to check it.

_How did that slip my mind?_

Maybe Midna had tightened the hair past the point that he was used to. That could easily result in some sour sounds. Perhaps it needed rosin. How he hadn't felt the difference was a head-scratcher, though. He should have recognized any modifications.

He shrugged, shaking away the antsy feeling in his feet. There was no way of knowing until he could get his hands on his instrument. He couldn't wait.

Link's troubles, which he suspected were originating from within and stretching out to ensnare his friends, had begun eight weeks ago.

A seemingly ordinary yet fateful day. A peaceful Friday like any other, full of goofing off, lying around and teasing. Summer was just around the corner, the air was still cool, and Zelda was as playful and radiant as ever.

Yet, there was something off about her. She seemed distant. Attributing her lackluster attitude to her monthly bout of hormonal changes, Link thought nothing of it. But, it didn't take long for him to notice the strain on their friendship; not when it had always meant so much to him.

In fact, he didn't know how important Zelda was to him until what they once had had begun to fade.

Feelings had been hurt. Angry words had been said. He had chased her through a windstorm, and spent a quiet night alone with her by a fire on an isolated island. They had ventured to the North Province of Skyloft together, visiting friends. Zelda had yearned to see these people. Her need was urgent. Link hadn't understood it then. Now, he did. She was saying goodbye…

No. Zelda was alive and well, and she was going to stay that way – if he had anything to say about it. Over the years, Link's strength had always been enough, especially for Zelda. But now, like his foible regarding the demon, it was undeniable - he would have to become something greater.

He would see her soon. He would go back home, retrieve the surrogate weapon, and then head for the woods to hunt down the benedight sword Fi had told him about. Then he would be ready to meet Zelda, to tell her everything that he was feeling, and to fulfill his duty to protect her during her trip to a safe place.

This was all about her, yet Link had done little more than agonize over his own troubles. His trials, while precarious and difficult, were mostly just demoralizing. Surely her passage had been drastically more treacherous. _She_ was in much more danger than _him_.

Link thought about Pipit and Zelda. Something had developed between them in recent days. How long these two had been smitten with each other was unclear. He certainly hadn't seen it coming.

Link glanced over his shoulder at him. So content, he seemed, sitting on his bird with an oversized breakfast sandwich in his face. The Crown Plaza definitely had its perks.

Link shook his head and started to smile, but it slowly dwindled. His eyes stayed on his friend.

In the days leading up to final exams at the academy, tensions had been high. He and Pipit had been terribly at odds, all thanks to misunderstandings, and a generous bit of immaturity. During the hours which carried him through the proudest event of his life, his knighting, he had been overrun by challenges. He had fought with Zelda, performed an awkward ceremony with her atop the Goddess Statue, and, for the first time, was jealous of her wanting to be with another guy.

One feeling contradicted another. He wanted Midna by his side that day, yet Zelda's wish to spend the afternoon with Pipit left him green with envy.

_Hm… At least now I know why she wanted Pipit to go flying with her instead of me._

If Link was completely honest with himself, which he was becoming more inclined to be, then he had accepted his true reasons for hurrying to the surface -

Not only had overconfidence seized him, but he was disgruntled; sullen after finding that his standing as Zelda's first choice was in jeopardy. Someone else was in the running for his well-earned title.

Link's eyes narrowed. An old, familiar annoyance crept up, but he pushed it away. Zelda's feelings weren't Pipit's fault. _His_ feelings weren't his fault, either. These things just…happened.

Zelda was no fool. She wouldn't have taken a liking to him unless there was a reason for it.

Pipit had failings like anyone else, but he was honest, true, dedicated, kind, and selfless - when he wanted to be. Karane was an outlier; their relationship had a way of bringing out his shortcomings. His conscience would undoubtedly overcome his misplaced justification soon enough, though.

There Pipit was, munching away on his rich-people-sandwich, as he called it earlier, happy as could be. He didn't even seem nervous about returning to Azuria. Stranger still was his level of comfort after his side trip to the demon realm. It was amazing. Did nothing faze him?

"Pipit…?" Link finally called. His friend continued to dig into his food. "Pipit?"

"Mmmmmyum," Pipit mumbled.

"Pipit!" Link shouted behind him, garnering an offhand glance from the soldier. At last, Pipit set his undying love for his sandwich aside.

"Yeah?" he said, urging Hematite forward. In a moment, the two loftwings flew abreast.

"Enjoying your breakfast?" Link asked, grinning. Pipit answered in the affirmative.

"All happiness depends on a leisurely breakfast," he said with his mouth full. "I enjoyed yours, too. I dunno how you're not starving."

"I got out of the habit of eating in the morning on the surface."

"I think you got outta the habit of _eating_," Pipit said with a leery glance.

"Maybe a little bit."

"You need to eat, man."

"I will."

"Maybe we can grab a bite in your old institution," Pipit said jokingly. Link wasn't amused.

"Ha, ha."

"I'm serious! It's time for a trip down memory lane. You're twenty-one. It's been like…thirteen years since we've been there."

"Just 'cause we're going back doesn't mean we have to visit the children's home."

"Why not?"

"Because, _Pipit_. What's the point of going? To torture myself?"

"Yes, 'cause you obviously haven't had enough torment," Pipit quipped. "Actually, I was thinking maybe we could ask them about your parents." Link's mind blanked for a second.

"What?"

"Yeah, why not? Let's solve this decade-and-a-half-long mystery of who your parents are." Link pondered. "And where they went. It's like an ancientry at this point."

"I dunno…" Link said, looking away.

"Why not? You've always wondered. I think I'm curious enough for the both of us." Link shrugged. "Maybe they're both _awesome_ violinists. Wouldn't that be crazy?"

"I guess."

Link was brought back to his time on the road to Acheron, the last time he'd thought about his parents. His connection with Ghirahim had pulled many unsolicited obscurities from his mind.

"_You do not have what_ _it takes to succeed at the tasks which have been set aside for you. You will never survive_ _the_ _hardships that you will be forced to face by_ _that truculent tyrant. An unbreakable spirit is not enough, sky child."_

The demon's harsh accusations were difficult to forget. In fact, Link had never been so apt to remember a person's every word.

If there was anything he wanted to rid himself of, it certainly wasn't his musical expertise…

"_You should feel guilty. If you had chosen her instead of the other little vamp, then this entire calamity would have turned out quite differently._

"_Oh, how wrongfully the Goddess chose when she formed you in your mother's womb, sky child. You - a worthless nobody, a deserted orphan whom no one had even the slightest bit of pity for… A valueless goat-herder. A despised human being by many with an intolerable stutter who failed repeatedly to find his place…_ _You were simply a coward looking for a way to _be_ something."_

Link stared heatedly into space as his old home drew closer, emerging from the mist.

"_A selfish failure of a friend who regrettably misplaced his passions onto another, more attractive, woman. A supposed man of honor who secretly wished to seek revenge against the spirit maiden by making her pay in unspeakable ways. A hero full of regret for not listening to his guide's wise advice...for failing to heed the concerns of his friends...for feeling utterly unworthy of the title, 'the Goddess's chosen one'_."

Link cringed. A chill climbed from his spine to his shoulders as he remembered the feel of Ghirahim's hands…and his mouth. He shuddered.

"…_for feeling utterly unworthy of the title, 'the Goddess's chosen one'_."

Link glared into the distance.

"_Unworthy."_

"Jerk," he mumbled to himself.

"Huh?" Pipit asked, sitting up. Link snapped out of it.

"Oh, nothing," he said flatly.

"_A man unwilling to admit that his love for his best mate has gone beyond that of friendship…"_

"Pssh, now that's just stupid," Link whispered.

"Huh? What the hell are you talking about?" Link cleared his throat.

"Nothing, I'm just…remembering a few things."

"About what?" Pipit popped the remainder of the bread in his mouth.

"Our stalker." Pipit's eyes widened.

"Our stalker? You mean Jirgaheem?"

"I'm suddenly profoundly grateful for your bad form with names, Pip."

"What're you thinking about him for?"

"How can I not?" Link raised a brow toward his friend. "He's like a virus… He just…"

"Makes you really fucking sick?" Pipit interrupted. The two sat in silence for a moment. Eventually, Link had to chuckle.

"Yeah, I'd say so," he agreed.

"Sorry," Pipit said, whipping his hat off and ruffling his disheveled hair. "I'm a little pissed at that guy at the moment."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Link said. "Gods, I mean, look what happened to you because of _me_."

"That wasn't your fault, man."

"Yes, it was," Link insisted. "I shouldn't have left to find Zelda in the first place. Not without taking someone with me." He searched Pipit's face to make sure he wasn't mentally disregarding him. "I'm sorry I left like that, especially after you urged me not to." Pipit's lip curled in thought.

"It's fine."

"No, it's not," Link said. "What happened to you last night is because of _me_. If I hadn't been in such a rush to prove to Zelda…" He blinked, swallowing back his confession. "Then this wouldn't have happened."

"It's fine," Pipit reiterated.

"How is it fine?"

"Because it has to be. It's over and done with. Am I supposed to be mad at you forever?"

"You _are_ mad, then," Link pointed out.

"Maybe I was…a little," Pipit said, shrugging. "But, what good is it gonna do? Will me hating you make you feel better?"

"In theory, yes. In reality, probably not."

"That's not what I want, man," Pipit said. "Last night sucked, but I'm not blaming you for it." He took a minute to brood. His friend looked at him strangely. "Yeah, you shouldn't have left." He gave Link a stern glance. "Actually, it was _stupid_ as hell." Link almost recoiled, not only at Pipit's word choice, but his severe expression. Pipit let the silence speak for him. "There, you happy?" He crossed his arms and gave a perfectly patronizing glare. Somehow, Link had come to miss the Pipit-stare during their time apart, even if it grated on him.

"Maybe a little," he said, facing forward.

"Aha!" Pipit yelled, pointing in Link's face.

"What?" Link cried, jumping.

"I knew it!"

"Knew what?"

"You're a masochist! You're in trouble, man. Jhirabeem is gonna have a field day with you." Link didn't know how to respond at first.

"I am not a masochist!"

"Then what are you? I'm pretty sure anyone who gets off on being verbally ripped up is a masochist."

"I'm not getting off on anything," Link said.

"Then why are you happy I said that?" Pipit's dark eyebrow came up.

"I'm not, I mean…" Link thought for a second. "If I feel bad about something, it helps if the person I offended-"

"Does something unpleasant back? You're a masochist, man."

"There's a difference between that and myself," Link said, getting annoyed.

"No, there isn't," Pipit said, still crossing his arms. "If it makes you feel good to be reproved, then who's to say it won't develop into something worse? I think we both know someone who'd be willing to _play that game_ with you, know what I mean?"

"Pipit…" Link muttered, shaking his head. "Do you even realize what you're accusing me of? What you're saying is worse than what I was thinking about earlier. And it's not true. Where are you getting this stuff from?"

"I know how you _are_," Pipit said. "You're a masochist." Link grumbled.

"And you're _nuts_."

"Man, you've always had a guilt-complex going on. I wouldn't be saying this right now unless there was a reason for it." Pipit's gaze hardened.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've got a psycho after you, bud. And if you actually _like_ what he's doing, then—"

"Pipit, Goddesses." Link glowered at him. "You're kidding, right?" Pipit slowly shook his head. "You're out of your mind."

"If things were normal, and this Ghira-whatever stuff wasn't happening, I'd say have at it if you want. Go out and get your kicks with somebody." Link just gaped. "No matter who they are, ya know?"

"Pipit…"

"I just don't want you getting sucked into anything."

"What makes you think I would?"

"Just a hunch," Pipit said. "Or maybe it's 'cause he said that you enjoyed your time with him, and I believed him." Link was almost speechless. Almost.

"Are you saying that just to mess with me?" he asked. Pipit picked at his teeth.

"No," he said with his pinky in his mouth. "Maybe I'm just trying to scare some sense into you." Link looked away.

"I think it's time to talk about something else," he said evenly.

"What's that?"

"How about we talk about you and your mom?" Link suggested with a spurious tone. Pipit stopped what he was doing.

"What about?"

"Well, since we're on the subject of flaws…" Link glared at him. "When's the last time you said a kind word to your mother? Or are you too busy verbally abusing her to say something nice?" Pipit's hands, mouth, and face dropped. If his sandwich was still in existence, it would have been lost to the clouds. "Or maybe your mom's a masochist like me and you're doing her a favor."

"That's a messed up thing to say, man…"

"It would be if it weren't true," Link said, "but it _is_." Perhaps if Pipit hadn't ticked him off so much he would've felt bad about his friend's sudden chapfallen look. "Mallara is one of the sweetest people I know. And you treat her like garbage." Pipit slowly sat up, his face gradually turning from shocked to irritated.

"Just because I told her to stop using my money to pay people like _you_ to clean her house? That's not treating her like crap."

"You hollered at her, Pipit! I heard you from a quarter of a mile away!"

"I gave it to her to buy freakin' bread!" Pipit shouted, attracting the attention of the Azurian soldier. "Not pay _you_, or whatever little twerp decides to show up and take advantage of a lady who feels the need to overpay someone to do an easy job – that she should be doing _herself_."

"You calling me a twerp?" Link asked, squaring his shoulders. Pipit leaned closer.

"Sure. Why not? You'd probably _like it_." Link grinded his teeth. "_Do I make you horny, twerp?_" Link gasped and drew back.

"I guess I hit a sore spot," he said dryly.

"Guess I can say the same," Pipit replied, "seeing as though you're pulling this complaint out of nowhere."

"It's not out of nowhere. You've yelled at your mom, inexcusably, plenty of times."

"It's not inexcusable," Pipit said more quietly, looking at the soldier in front of them. "You know how she is. She's irresponsible and sloppy. It reflects badly on me, even though I don't live with her anymore. I took that patrolling job to help pay for my classes, _but,_ also so I wouldn't have to watch her either starve, or take some crappy, menial job to make up for everything that she's thrown away over the years." He looked away. "What my dad left for us should have been more than enough." He paused again. "Her and her gambling problem…" Link shook his head.

"Is that the only person you can think about? Yourself?" Link asked. "I think you need to give your mom a break. You know she hasn't been the same since your dad died. She may 'squander' what you give her sometimes, but she tries her best." He repaid Pipit with the same delation that he had just dealt him. "Sure, she goes into town and drinks and gambles sometimes. But she _needs_ you. And I don't just mean for money." He zoomed in on his friend's elusive gaze. "You're all she's got. She needs you to be more than just a critical drone in her ear."

"How did we go from you being hot for Despero to me and my mom's dysfunctional relationship?"

…..

The Azurian army base was much like the state as a whole: small. While Skyloft's Fort Cielgrenier and Superna's Fort Céleste each housed at least five-thousand soldiers, Azulstone contained less than half that amount.

The base was no less bustling, though. Even on a Saturday morning, soldiers and their superiors were pacing the grounds.

The one distinction that Azulstone could claim above all other bases, however, was the abundance of blue eyes. Nine out of ten Azurians, just like Link, Pipit and Zelda, had eyes ranging from the rich shade of cerulean to the soft hue of an ice field. Whether red-haired, blonde, brunette or black-haired, most people shared this feature.

"Ah, the scent of childhood," Pipit said, breathing deeply.

"Apparently our childhood smells like manure," Link said. The most prominent characteristic of their home was farmland. Fields of crops, predominantly cotton, sprawled in every direction outside of the base. Chickens, cows and goats could be seen roaming.

Link's pulse quickened when he saw his old farm from the air – the satisfactory yet hollow place where he had lived and worked for two years before moving to Skyloft to pursue a knight's education with Pipit.

"It's not that bad," Pipit said. "It brings back so many good memories that the stench doesn't bother me."

"Wish I felt the same."

After a thirty minute flight, the three young men and their loftwings welcomed the landing. After a generous amount of stretching, the visitors were led down a well-worn path toward the general's office.

After directing the soldier and knights through a maze of trees, the footpath expanded into a wide dirt road. Long, extensive flats ran along each side. The modest structures comprised the majority of the soldiers' barracks.

Walking leisurely down the road, Link compared his birthplace to Superna—

No high-rises here, much less buildings that resembled castles. No constant hum in his ears from a city that refused to sleep. This place was quiet, pastoral and laid back. The unstrained way of life flourishing in the vast countryside carried over into the fort, coloring it with a very different brush than any other military institution in the hemisphere.

Link inhaled a concoction of smells that he hadn't imbibed in over a decade. It wasn't all bad. It reminded him of his downtime after a hard day's work on the Ordonian farm, which almost always consisted of either stick-fights with Pipit, private excursions with Zelda, or both.

Link smiled. He and Zelda, in their younger years, were as inseparable as they'd been in the days leading up to her recent detachment.

From an affluent family, she was well-known and loved; the opposite of her short, scrawny friend from the orphanage near her house.

With access to some of the finer things in life, most of which were imported, she would regularly supply her best friend with a much needed reprieve from the daily grind that was life in an institution, or a farm. Common delicacies for her became lifesaving luxuries for him. The simple gift of Zelda's confectionaries kept him sane, stopping him from writing himself off as a worthless nobody who was worthy of little more than goat's milk and gruel. It made him think - despite what he'd been told - that he deserved something more.

The smallest gestures left him with the most lasting impressions.

He peeked at his friend out of the corner of his eye. Standing to the right, Pipit's gaze dropped to the ground as if he could feel the jaggedness of Link's thoughts.

Pipit was justified in his discomfort; the projected sharpness wasn't imagined. Link's face said it all, but Pipit refused to look at him. He thought it best not to, seeing as though they were in the company of others, and he had already offended him once.

But, little did Pipit know that he was prancing about in Link's thoughts, destroying one of the few memories of home that was actually pleasant for him.

Link wondered how many of the trio's childhood playtimes had been marred by Pipit's tainted thoughts about Zelda. Until recently, Link would have never suspected his friend of such indecency. The obvious had been overlooked. He scoffed, surprised at himself, but not at Pipit.

Link arrived at the general's office far more punctually than he would have had he not been incited by someone else. In fact, he was early; the general had yet to enter his office for the day.

The one room building was softly lit and rustic, the favored atmosphere of Azurians. After taking a chair in front of the general's desk, Link watched as Pipit was seated next to him. He rolled his eyes as his friend sat back.

Why couldn't Azuria's general be as much of a stickler for the rules as Superna's? Link thought about requesting a one-on-one conversation.

His underlying aggravation was not helping matters. He'd been displeased with Pipit ever since he had seen him with Zelda on the surface. Pipit had also been a veritable pain on the flight to the Skyloftian army base, and had left Link high and dry in Superna. After refusing to take part in the trip to the library, he'd provided his companion with an eyeful that he most definitely hadn't anticipated, nor had he wanted. Then, he'd gone off with the demon and tried to lie about it.

Link's irascibility was rising. He closed his eyes, suspecting that he might burn a hole through whatever unfortunate object was snagged in his sights. Had he really thought Pipit was loyal and selfless earlier?

Pipit thought he heard him growl.

"Dude, let it go," he said, staring at the general's empty chair.

"How do you know what I'm mad about?"

"You're pissy 'cause I voiced my concern about your well-being. How mature of you." Pipit glanced at the ceiling.

"Mature?" Link turned to him. "You have no idea how much effort it's taken not to knock you out these past twenty-four hours."

"This isn't about Lord Geejareem at all. This is about _Zelda_." Link didn't like his flippant tone.

"Yeah?" Link asked.

"Anybody with half a brain could read you like a book, bro. And the best part of all is that you have no goddess-damned right to feel the way that you do right now. And you're a hypocrite." Nothing but the sound of merry, chirping chickadees filled the office for a moment.

"Mind elaborating on that?"

"My pleasure," Pipit replied, picking his chair up and twisting it around. The wooden legs slammed into the carpeted floor before he sat with a thump. Link eyed him from the side. "Zelda might be your best friend, but she's not your girlfriend. How is it any of your business who she talks to, or flirts with, or _kisses_?"

"I know you don't understand, but it's always been my business," Link said, looking at his hands.

"Well, now is as perfect a time as any to let it go. Maybe not completely, but just enough to give her the space that _she's _given _you_. Pretty sure she's released you to Midna so to speak, or at least accepted that you may want to date other people. You owe her the same courtesy." Link sighed, knowing that most of his own opinions would be better left unshared. Some, however, just had to be said.

"Is no one safe from your lewd practices, Pipit?" he asked. "Seems nobody is turned away when it comes to your lustfulness. Even Zelda, who you've known your whole life." Pipit looked like he might laugh.

"Oh, so you wanna talk about lustfulness, do you? How clean is _your_ mind? How many females have been the pampered guests of Link's dirty thoughts lately, huh? Plenty, I'm sure." Link's tight gaze didn't move an inch. Pipit leaned closer. "_Try_ and tell me you haven't thought about Zelda in a carnal way before. I dare you." He waited, but Link wasn't interested in disclosures. "See? I told you. And you have no more right to lust after her than I do."

Link drummed his fingers and chewed his tongue, glaring indifferently.

"That's quite the poker face you have there," Pipit said, "but I can see right through it. Don't act all innocent. You're not nearly as pure as you come off."

"What would you know about purity?" Link asked.

"I can recognize its absence."

"Wow, go figure."

"She's never been your girlfriend, yet I'm sure you've entertained some less than virtuous thoughts about her. And you wanna get on _my_ case?"

"Something makes me think that she's no different than every other woman unlucky enough to pique your interest," Link said. "She's just another drop in a very large ocean."

"So it's about a number?" Pipit tilted his head in suspicion. "Then what if I behaved myself, and never thought about anyone but her? What then?"

"At least she'd be the only one," Link said.

"Yeah, right. You still wouldn't be happy, 'cause you think you deserve her more. _And_ Midna. You think you're entitled to every woman you want. _You_ have to be number one."

"That's not true."

"And speaking of her, 'Mister Innocent', I know she occupies your thoughts at night, if you know what I mean." Link still didn't move. "But who held the job before Midna came along, huh?" Once again, Pipit waited. "Well, I'll tell you who: Zelda, _who you've known your whole life._ For shaaaaaame."

"Knock it off, Pipit," Link rumbled.

"What? You seem to think it's okay for you, but wrong for me. And your excuse is that you never fantasize about anyone else, right?" After a few seconds, he sighed, finding Link's silence maddening. "You're full of crap, man. Trying to act like bad thoughts never cross your mind. I'll bet you're just as bad as me, if not worse. It's always the quiet ones."

With nothing to say, Link just sat there.

"Who else?" Pipit asked.

"What?"

"You're not better than me, pal. Who else?"

"Who else, what?"

"Karane?" Pipit pushed forward. Link leaned sideways.

"What're you trying to say? I've never thought about Karane like that."

"Why not? She's got a nice body. She's pretty. I wouldn't be surprised."

"So does Midna," Link noted. "So what does _that_ mean for _you_?"

"It means I'm guilty, man."

"What!" Link jumped to his feet and stared down at his friend. "When?"

"It was just once," Pipit told him pointblank. "After we all went swimming on Kehia Island. She was practically naked." He shrugged. "I couldn't get the image out of my head for days, so I did something about it."

"Goddesses, Pipit, is nothing sacred?"

"Hey, sorry," he added with a shoulder scrunch, "but at least I can admit it, unlike you."

"Well, unlike_ you_, I consider my friends' girlfriends off limits!"

"What about the single ladies, then?" Pipit crossed his arms and raised a brow. "Like, say, Peatrice?" He gave an inaudible chuckle. A grimace crossed Link's face before discretion could stop it.

"No way, Pipit."

"How about Ilia?"

"Pretty, but not my type," Link said.

"Not exciting enough for you, huh?" Pipit's eyes shifted. "How about Kina?"

"Pipit, that's enough of this game."

"Hell no. We're not done yet." Pipit stood to join his friend. "You have a type. It's just a matter of uncovering it."

"Fine, Pipit, I do have a type, and it's Midna. And, yes, I've _thought about her_, okay?"

"Well, now we know you've been lecherous toward two women, at least." Pipit provided two fingers for a visual. "But there's more. I refuse to believe you're better than me."

"The general's gonna be here any minute," Link whispered. "Do you really want him walking into—"

"How about Malon?" Pipit chimed in. Link froze. Pipit's brow furrowed.

"No," Link said with a headshake.

"She was your first kiss, man. You're telling me you never thought past that?"

"Nope."

"What about Wryna?"

"Kukiel's mom?" Link said, his voice rising in exasperation. "_What_? She's married!"

"Okay. Try this on for size." Pipit stepped nearer and grasped his chin. The other hand pointed. "Orielle." Again, Pipit waited, but this time, Link had no answer to give. He simply blinked, swallowed and looked away for a split-second. He watched Pipit's curious grin turn into a full-blown and rather evil smile. His eyes twinkled.

"Check and mate," Pipit said, lowering his head. Link held back a flinch. "I _got_ you." He wagged his finger about. "I get it. You've got the hots for the helpless girls, right?"

"Pipiiiiit," Link groaned.

"_Oh, Link, my loftwing is hurt_," Pipit cooed in falsetto, folding his hands beside his face. "_Pleeease, go find my brother_—" He flitted about. "—_and get some healing potion for my bird_." He batted his eyes. Link mumbled. "_You can be my brave, handsome knight and I can be your goddess."_ He edged close enough for Link to give him a nice uppercut to the jaw. "_Thank you, Link. Let me show you my_…gratitude."

Link felt heat surge through his body. His hands clenched as his eyes met Pipit's.

"Still think you're better than me?" Pipit asked, enjoying himself. Link's forbearance was wrestling with his pride; the latter was winning. "Well?"

In the interstice between Pipit's questions, Link considered five different ways to cause vast amounts of pain without excessive bodily injury. His fingers were restless, opening and closing with fervor. Pipit took notice. The two were so close that he could see his own smirk in Link's eyes.

"Since when have you become so ireful?" Pipit asked. Link's chest puffed up.

"Since you accused me of being a masochist," Link said gruffly.

"Well, I'm not apologizing," Pipit stated. "I meant it."

Pride now had forbearance in a headlock.

"I figured," Link replied.

"I think you need to admit I'm right. You aren't as pious as everyone thinks." A flame was dancing its way up Link's body, changing his already flushed ears to a rosy red.

"I'm not apologizing either," Link said. "You _are_ worse than me. And you're a jerk to your mother. And…" He slid so close to Pipit that their chests were touching. "You're a selfish coward."

"I'm a _what_?"

"You heard me."

"Why?"

"Because of what you're doing with Karane. You're afraid to tell her the truth, but you have no problem using her. Every time you seek out her _company_, you use her." A stiff finger jabbed beneath Pipit's collarbone. "Every second that you allow her to invest herself in you for your own egotistical gain, you use her. You tell her whatever she wants to hear with no intention of keeping your promises." He reached up and shoved Pipit back with a grunt. He caught himself against the desk, staring. "You took _vows_, Pipit. Vows to respect women. Not to increase the amount of scum in society."

A chorus of birds sounded in the background.

Disoriented, Pipit straightened up, yanking on the front of his tunic, grasping it tightly to keep his hands busy.

"Scum, huh?" he asked, reclaiming his spot in Link's face. "Is that really how you view me?" Link didn't respond. As furious as he was, he was reluctant to speak in haste. "Well, I've got news for you, pal. _News_. So listen up." Link leaned back on his left foot, ready for anything. "I'm not afraid to tell Karane the truth. I already decided I would yesterday, after we discussed it in Superna. I'm gonna talk to her as soon as we get back."

"That makes it all better, I suppose," Link muttered sarcastically, discounting his earlier attempt to focus on his friend's positive traits.

"What? Does that not _please you_, hero?" Link's nostrils flared.

"Don't call me hero," he warned. Pipit cocked his head.

"Oh?" he asked with a grin. "Why not, _hero_?"

Desiring to recreate their bare-handed fight in the sparring hall from three weeks ago, Link seriously considered teaching Pipit a lesson.

Before impulse could take over, however, both young men found themselves caught unawares by a rather commanding presence in a navy blue uniform. Looking the knights over, the taller man brought his hands behind his back. Link and Pipit turned to face him, quickly dipping into two knightly bows.

"Morning, boys," the man said slowly. His bright, cyan-tinted eyes offset his grey hair and chiseled face.

"Morning, sir," they both said. The slight upturn on one side of his mouth suggested that he was privy to the tension in the room.

"I'm General Pajaro," he said, presenting them each with a firm handshake. "Which one of you is Link?"

"I am, sir," Link said without delay.

"Have a seat, boys."

The two sat in their previous spots, each fighting back a scowl.

"I understand you are both Ordon natives," the general said, lacing his fingers atop his desk. Link looked down, happy to see the odd fingerprint and messy pile of papers resting on the not-so-shiny desktop. He and Pipit both nodded. "And you're both knights. Wonderful."

Link gave a weak smile, which was more than could be said for Pipit.

"More and more of our youngsters, especially our boys, are emigrating to nearby states. Cyainus and Twilight are popular for their exceptional junior knight academies. Superna, however, seems to be considered the acme of all destinations. Nothing like a big city to lure a simple farmhand." He paused as if to receive a response. Link nodded. The general looked back and forth between him and Pipit.

"Is there a problem, boys?" the general asked. Link's heart thumped. "Lighthearted conversation doesn't seem to be having the effect that I would like it to." Rigidity struck Link's spine. He stole a glance at Pipit, whose mouth was in a tight line. His eyes were inexpressive. Link looked down, pounding back the redness that was trying to make a comeback.

"It's all right, sir," Pipit said. Link held his breath, clutching his pants at the knees.

_Oh gods, no…_

"Pipit…" Link whispered.

"We were just having a disagreement," Pipit explained. "See, we're lovers." Link barely held back a muffled grunt, but couldn't quell the riled exhale. Motionless, the general eyed them both. Pipit stared back, straight-faced. "He's having a little trouble accepting his role as the _femme_, is all."

"Gugh…" was the only sound Link could make. The general's eye twitched.

"Not a big deal. We'll be okay. Won't we…_honey_?" Gazing lovingly at his friend, Pipit reached to the side, wrapping his hand around the top of Link's thigh. With a gasp, Link looked down. Even though he knew the general couldn't see what was happening, he was so embarrassed he could hardly stand it. When Pipit's hand began to knead, the blush finally spread across his face.

Humiliation. Anger. Link didn't know which of the two was dominant at the moment. With his head low, he glared hatefully at the far wall. The general's lip dropped ever so slightly.

Moving nothing but his arm, Link slid his palm over the intruding hand. Each of his fingers sneaked their way in between Pipit's before clamping down. With Pipit's knuckles secured within his own, Link squeezed hard. Unsparing, he had Pipit squirming in record time. Concealing his agony for a whole three seconds, Pipit turned away and made a pitiful sound. The general took on the likeness of a statue.

It didn't take long for Pipit to fall to his knees beside Link's chair. After one last squeeze, he quietly begged for mercy, schooled on the subject of why it was a bad idea to mortify Link in front of an authority figure. Pulling free, he inspected his aching joints, complaining that his sword-wielding hand was probably ruined for good.

"Love hurts," Link said to the bewildered general.

…

Finished answering the general's questions and released from his obligation, Link made the short trip in the warm Saturday air to his old orphanage, following the advice of his friend – who was still griping and whining.

They hadn't said a word to each other since the general had interrupted the would-be fight of the century. But, when pride was broken, silence oftentimes followed suit.

With a twist and an excruciating crack of his knuckles, Pipit gave in.

"I can't believe you did that," he said. Link turned to gape at him.

"You can't believe _me_?" he asked.

"Oooh, pain hurrrts…"

"You deserved every second of that," Link chided. "You are unbelievable."

"You pissed me off with the mom and Karane comments," Pipit moaned.

"Well, you got under my skin long before that, Pipit."

"That was mean…"

"Mean?" Link asked with a laugh. "And what exactly would you call, 'We're lovers'? And, 'He's the _femme'_? What're you trying to do? Don't you know I'm gonna be seeing that guy again?"

"Oh geez, so what," Pipit groaned.

"So what? That's all you have to say?"

"For now." Pipit tried to rub away the soreness.

"How about, 'I'm sorry'?"

"You first."

"Why should I apologize first?"

"'Cause you almost crippled me. _Again_. You're a brute."

"Pip, you asked for it," Link said, looking him in the eye as they walked. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Not really."

"You grabbed my leg. I thought you were gonna—"

"Okay, okay," Pipit admitted. "I guess I see your point."

"So, do I really need to apologize first?"

"…Yes."

"Gods, Pip, you're something else." Pipit shrugged. "Fine, all right? I'll man up first." Link pivoted, walking backward to face his friend. "I'm sorry for saying anger-fueled things, and for nearly obliterating your hand."

"Thanks."

"And?" Link urged.

"And what?"

"Ugh," Link sighed.

The rest of the walk past several farms and meadows was spent endeavoring to draw a simple 'I'm sorry' from his obstinate companion. After a good amount of convincing, Pipit relinquished the words. He even promised to never massage Link's leg again; not in the presence of a general, anyway. Link deemed his statement suitable.

Moving beyond their mutual annoyance, the two chitchatted all the way to the stone steps of the Ordonian Children's Home. In the middle of an apple orchard, the place wasn't even close to the dark, macabre house of misery that would tease Link's idle thoughts and pop up in his nightmares every now and again.

On the contrary, children were everywhere, and they seemed _happy_. Ascending the steps, the two friends passed by several groups of boys and girls. Of varying ages, they played and conversed with one another. Some stopped to check out the tunic-wearing strangers.

"How did you ever survive this hell hole, man?" Pipit asked, observing the carefree activity around him. "_Poor you_."

"This place was a lot different years ago, Pipit."

"Sure."

Entering the wide corridor of the three-story structure was like brushing shoulders with the past. The smell of the polished floors and nearby dining hall brought back a flood of memories.

"It's this way," Link told his friend, moving as if there wasn't a moment to lose. After weaving in and out of rambunctious children, they arrived at the main office. The door opened with a memorable creak.

Sights, sounds and scents were all the same, yet the spirit of the residence was much different, as was the face behind the chest-high counter. Light streamed in from a large window, delivering some much needed cheer.

"Morning," Link announced to the receptionist. The older, brown-haired heavy set woman peeked over the top of her reading glasses.

"Can I help you?" She removed her eyewear, adjusting the top of her grey linen dress.

"Yes," Link said, stepping up to the counter. "I'm here to collect some old records of mine." The woman scrutinized him from head to toe. It was impossible to tell whether she was pleased or not. The wrinkles around her eyes contracted.

"Records? Were you a resident here at one time?"

"Yes. I left about fifteen years ago after living here for two years."

"Resident identification number?" the lady asked, replacing her glasses. She turned to her right, preparing to fish through an enormous drawer full of files.

"_22-119-86-S_," Link recited. Caressing his hand, Pipit gave him a funny look, not knowing anything on the matter. The woman deserted the drawer to face them again.

"'S'?" she asked. Link nodded. "I'm afraid I can't give these records to you."

"Why?" Link asked.

"Because of the nature of your enrollment," the woman said. "The 'S' in your ID number indicates that your records are sealed." Link didn't say anything for a moment.

"Sealed?" he asked.

"Yes, sealed," the woman repeated, giving him a concluding glance before returning to the paperwork on her desk and preparing to put her glasses on.

"Well, wait," Link said, regaining her attention. "I'm hoping to find my parents." The woman's glasses hovered as she looked him squarely in the eye.

"While that is a noble venture, young man, you will have to go elsewhere. I am unable to help you at this time." She was close to shooing him out of her office.

"Wait! Ma'am," he said, his cadence attracting her gaze once more. "This is my only way of finding them. I live all the way in Skyloft. I haven't talked to anyone from Azuria in years. I never had any family here. I don't know if I'd be able to find anyone to help…" Pipit stood quietly, surprised by Link's sudden thirst for answers. Earlier, he couldn't have cared less.

Wrapping her fingers around the frame of her dark glasses, the woman thought.

"You said fifteen years ago?" she asked. Link fervently nodded. With tapered eyes, the woman dipped into one of the many drawers surrounding her desk. Link waited, twiddling his thumbs. The joyous sounds of kids poured in from the hallway.

After a minute of paper shifting, the receptionist pulled a brown folder from a cabinet. She opened it and laid it down, perusing its contents. Link rocked on his toes, eager to see.

"What age did you leave the institution?" the lady asked, popping her glasses back on her nose.

"Six," Link answered. She lowered her head again.

"Where did you go from here?"

"Blue Sage Farm," Link told her. Her eyes dropped again.

"What is your name?"

"Link."

"Spell it, please."

"L-I-N-K." He blinked, waiting.

"_Stats from last physical exam_," the woman began. "_Age: six years. Height: forty inches. Weight: forty-two pounds. Hair color: blond. Eye color: medium sapphire_."

"What's with the twenty questions?" Pipit interjected.

"She's just trying to confirm that it's me," Link said, looking the woman in the eye. Staring back, she shifted the paper before examining it again.

"I do believe that these are your records," she stated.

"Can I see them, please?" Link asked, turning up the charm. The woman started to smile. Her glasses came off.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that," she said. Link's shoulders slumped.

"But, I have to know," he said, his eyes pleading. The woman pursed her lips. She looked at the paper again, tapping her fingers against the desktop. "I'm twenty-one. Now that I'm older, and I've been through four years of senior knight school…" His voice trailed off. "I'm a knight now. I guess I…finally have something to be proud of." He looked at Pipit. "I _have_ been wondering about my parents for years. I haven't been able to stop thinking about why they gave me up. It's…haunted me." He inched to the counter. The woman sat stone-faced. She sighed.

"Well, no matter what, I still can't give you these records." Link looked somberly at Pipit. "However, I also can't tell you that the last city of residence recorded for your parents is Evenfall, in the state of Twilight." Link's world stopped. He was quiet at first.

"Twilight…" he echoed. He brought his head up. "What are their names?"

"I can't tell you that they're Kiri and Arn," she told him, raising her eyebrows slyly. His jaw dropped before peering at his friend. He grinned.

"Thank you, ma'am, for not telling me," Link said with a polite nod. He swiftly exited the room with Pipit in tow.

"You're not welcome," the woman said to herself with a smile.

Hauling Pipit by the front of his uniform, Link speed-walked down the front steps, bypassing dozens of kids and attendants. He didn't stop until they reached the nearest apple tree several dozen yards from the building.

"Thanks for encouraging me to go in their Pip," Link said, his eyes aglow. "Kiri and Arn, wow…" He gave an excited hop. "They seem real…for the first time. They have _names_."

"Most people do," Pipit replied.

"Twilight. We're gonna be going there before we stop in Cyainus."

"And then we get to go freakin' home, finally…" Pipit wiggled his left ring finger to make sure it was still functional.

"Man. I hope we have some time to visit Evenfall," Link said.

"Guess it depends how much of a jerk our next escort is," Pipit said. "And how far the town is from the army base—"

"Well, I don't care," Link said. "I'll find a way to get there."

"Dude, it's been what…seventeen years since you were placed in that orphanage?" Pipit made a face. "There's no guarantee your parents are living where that old, musty piece of paper says they are. Plus, _they_ wanted your records sealed…"

"Don't think so negatively, Pip," Link said, slapping his friend on the upper arm. He flinched.

"Oh, I'm not," he said. "If all the girls from Twilight are as hot as Midna, then…" He chuckled ruttishly. Link had no trouble ignoring him.

"Come on," he said, heading back toward Azulstone. "Let's get back to the landing area. Our escort's coming."

"We still have an hour, man. Can't we just relax for a while? Laze around?" He nabbed a freshly fallen apple that lay at his feet. He shoved it in Link's face. "_Here_." Link took it.

"I don't wanna be late." He scooped up a second apple. With a leap, a twist and a toss, he returned the favor.

"He doesn't wanna be late, he says," Pipit said, taking a huge, loud bite. Juice went flying everywhere. He swore at his wet shirt. "When have you ever been concerned about getting anywhere on time in the morning?"

Discussing the unhappy truth that fruit tends to make a person even hungrier than he started out, the two not so leisurely marched back to the army base to meet with the solder from Twilight.

...

_Thanks for reading! So, what do you think that ID number means (minus the 'S')?_


	27. Send Her My Love: Part Two

_Yay to sym spidey for being lucky reviewer #200, and darkin520 for being #300! And an extra special thank you to IrishPanther for reviewing and giving me his thoughts on every chapter._

_To all of my reviewers: Whether it was one time or several, you didn't have to review, but you chose to share your thoughts with me anyway. BIG group hug to every one of you guys, including the many people who have FAVORITED and/or FOLLOWED (also those on Author Alert). You all are the reason I update. To you guys and to my future readers/reviewers, a million times - THANK YOU._

_Good job Guest (from chapter 26)! You were the first to decipher Link's ID number. As goddessharp guessed after (good job to her too, btw), on February 21, 1986, the first Zelda game was released._

Chapter 27

Send Her My Love: Part Two

_Oh, we certainly _have_ met…_

Fi stood, her feet steadfast but her courage slipping. Her enemy was no more than five feet away.

Over the course of an extensive, full life, she had kept company with countless beings, many of whom were of different races. Shyness and self-consciousness – these had always been infrequent for her. The effects of intimidation were even rarer.

So why did she feel this way?

"I said," the stranger accentuated, stepping closer, "lower…your…weapon." His accent was foreign. Sophisticated. His _r's_ were soft; his vowels were stringently pronounced. A mellow baritone.

Fi's hand remained raised, blocking all but the man's face from her line of sight.

Showing caution, the man lifted his arms. Just short of smiling, he held his stern yet unperturbed pose as Fi looked at his empty hands for several seconds. Without even the faintest glint of magic and no rapier, they were of little threat to her – for the most part.

_Is this what he's suggesting…?_

A peaceable gesture from a perfidious man.

As an empyrean, Fi was many things; fool enough to hastily trust one such as this, however, was not one of them. Or so she assumed.

She knew him, yet she didn't. As she gazed into eyes as agelong as the soil beneath her, she saw something recognizable, yet out of reach—like that of remote, fallow land.

The chill of the cold ground bit into her toes.

Poised to strike and reluctant to stand down, Fi studied him. As she clung to the defensive, the stranger drew his arms back as a raven folds its wings after flight. His hands tucked themselves behind his back, taking with them their inherent danger.

Vulnerable was the man's position; the position that he had chosen to take. Fi now had the upper hand, as well as a generous amount of befuddlement to contend with. Watching him over her fingertips, and despite her uncertainty, her tightness slowly lessened.

She knew that this man should not have been in the woods outside Hylia's realm. She also knew that she shouldn't have been there with him. In that moment, the only action fit to be taken by a stray soldier of the Goddess was to flee. Right then and there, she should have done just that.

But she didn't. Something was holding her hostage, yet it was not this mysterious man who was skulking around his enemies' territory. No, it was something else, entirely; something from within herself.

The demon's oversized step brought him closer. Fi's stare lifted to his. He was tall, but so was she. His height overtook hers by only three inches.

Questions – she had so many of them. In those murky woods, he would answer her, and more.

Her eyes communicated what her mouth did not.

His presence alone dug into her with an intensity that was impossible to escape. She shivered, noticing that he was even closer now, and unsure as to which one of them had taken a step; maybe both of them had.

What was it about this man?

In the dark, their garments were of the same hue; shadowy, almost achromatic. The azure of her skin and the white of his seemed to diminish. The evidence of whom each had pledged their allegiance to was fading, melting into the darkness.

As he had demanded – no, _asked_ – Fi lowered her arm.

Nothing but silence then, cushioned by the delicate echoes of words unspoken.

_What are you doing here? Where is he?_

A joining of minds; a connection in the dark. When his fingers slid around hers, her eyes closed.

Eons old, his hands felt, just like hers. But his were assigned a much different task; such an antithetic existence.

He had killed so many like her. She could feel it. The guilt of his crimes – the deep satisfaction of his victories – seeped from his calloused skin to hers.

Standing there was wrong. She knew that she needed to leave, yet she didn't want to.

Blood from battles long ago…blood from this yearlong war… It mixed together.

_They_ were mixing together.

But there was more. More to _him_. Layers, like the stratum of an ancient crag. They held secrets; unexpected findings; treasures, perhaps.

What did he want with her? And what happened to…

"_Who are you talking about?"_

She opened her eyes, doubting that she had even heard the faint query. Her face was relaxed and calm, as was his. He looked like a curious child, if only for a short time.

"_You don't know?"_ _she asked_. A quizzical expression spread over her face. How and why were his thoughts penetrating hers?

Telepathy, while rare among the people of Fi's realm, was not unknown. When the phenomenon occurred, it did so between no more than two individuals – sometimes temporarily and sporadically, other times interminably and endlessly. Its meaning and function varied from case to case, but was never without purpose.

Every case, however, was linked with a form of intimacy that could be fathomed only by those fully willing to submit to the roles of giver and receiver. While these encounters were chiefly beneficial and safe, tainture sometimes intruded; there existed some of questionable intent who had no business joining with others in this way. Yet, they did.

Fi knew that the demon tribe shared in the gift of telepathy – some individuals dipped into telekinesis, even – though the differences in conduct between empyreans and demons remained a mystery to her. In the past, she had often wondered what it would feel like to connect with a demon, but it was mostly due to youthful, untrammeled imagination. The passage of centuries had planted in her a certain discretion; a caginess that replaced intrigue with prudence.

Fi's knowledge carried with it even more questions. She had experienced the extraordinary connection of telepathy with men before; several of them. She had even united in thought with another woman a few times over the course of her long life. But these connections and what had prompted them had made sense in those instances.

Why, right now, would this singularity manifest itself here, in this forest, between her and a sworn enemy?

Fi's lashes fluttered. She felt that if she wasn't careful, she might forget where she was, and who she was with. She wasn't completely sure that she minded.

Her brow rose as she realized what her mind was tending toward. She looked closely at the one in front of her.

Did he really not know who she was searching for?

"_Where is Link? Why did you come here?" _Fi barely stopped herself from mouthing the words.

"_To see someone."_ The demon's posture straightened as his gaze remained invariable.

"_To see someone? You're within a quarter of a mile of the Goddess. Even someone such as you…"_ Fi paused, considering what she knew of him – what she had seen, and what she had heard. This man's leader, his king, had been defeated. Surely his sudden guilessness masked some sort of ill intent. "_Even someone such as you risks death by coming here. Did you come to seek revenge against Hylia, or her chosen one?"_ Her eyes flipped back and forth between the demon's.

"_No."_ His thoughts were direct, simple, and bound to a strange brand of honesty.

"_Then, who?"_ Fi unwittingly squeezed his hands.

"_You."_

Fi could do little but stare. His admission sounded genuine but left her puzzled, if not initially and ever so slightly flattered.

"Me?" she asked aloud. The man's body language told her little, yet she was unafraid. He nodded. "What do you mean? Where is Link?"

"The human?" he asked, his voice surprisingly smooth.

"You do know who I mean, then," Fi said.

"Of course. But why imply that I know of his whereabouts?" Fi searched his features – refined yet masculine, pleasant yet rugged. Watching his pale lips move, she was thankful that the discussion had shifted from thought to word.

"He had vanished. A soldier informed me that he had seen him retreat into the woods. When I saw you, I just assumed—"

"Presumed," the man corrected. Fi's delicate mouth hung open a bit.

"Perhaps," she said with some hesitation. She turned her head, the sound of distant voices just beginning to reach her ears. "But…" She faced him once more, forgetting that their hands were interwoven. "Even if you don't know where he is…why come for me?" She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear his explanation. He didn't give it right away, but merely dropped his eyes. They trailed from her feet to where her thighs were hidden behind violet linen. She felt the probe of his stare as it moved on to her upper body.

From behind, she was obscured by a long, dark cloak. But from the demon's viewpoint her figure was plainly visible; thin and sleek, and hugged cleanly by a fitted robe. The shallow dip of her waist and soft curve of her hips presented themselves to him.

His eyes came back up to hers. Her breathing halted. She could have sworn he was trying to keep every trace of emotion hidden.

"I would ask, 'Do you remember our first meeting', but I know that you do," the man almost whispered. Fi's mouth snapped shut.

"Oh, yes," she replied.

"Seven weeks ago, exactly," he said. "A notably _hot_ day, as I recall." Fi's hands started to sweat.

"Actually, I remember it being rather…cool," Fi said quietly.

"Late afternoon," he added. "Sky as crimson as rubies. Sun blinding like never before…" His voice trailed.

"I remember," Fi said.

"It was…" The man ran his tongue across his teeth. Fi caught a quick glimpse of its oddly dark color. "Scintillating." Her jaw dropped again.

"Yes, that day was…"She couldn't stop looking at his mouth.

_What am I doing here?_ she wondered.

"_Speaking with me_," _he retorted_. Fi's eyes widened before she looked at her hands.

"_Yes, but I shouldn't be."_ She looked him in the face. "And neither should _you_ be here with _me_."

"And why not?" he asked, his deep voice rising.

"Because we're consorting with…" Her fingers tensed. "…the enemy." The beginnings of a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Do we resemble enemies?" he asked.

"Yes," she said confidently. The incongruously mild feel of warriors' hands stopped her short. "No…" The demon lifted his chin and lowered his gaze.

"I thought not," he said. Fi looked away. "I do not routinely exchange prolonged looks with my enemies on the battlefield." She stayed still, knowing what he meant. "I fight them. I kill them. I care nothing for them."

"_So, what you're saying about me is…?"_ Fi kept her head low as she waited for his answer. It didn't come. Her face came up once more.

His eyes were gorgeous. Moonlight tried its hardest to trickle through the thick cover of branches above them, providing a tiny sparkle in the demon's irises. His stare was all-pervading.

"What is your name, soldier?" Fi asked. He seemed amused.

"Do you not know?" She took a breath, passively listening to the rise and fall of his tone.

"I believe I've heard it," she said, her eyelids drooping in the darkness, "on a few different occasions." He cocked his head, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Is that all?" he asked, a 'tsk, tsk' nearly wriggling from his tongue.

"I've heard you discussed _many_ times," she said, flinching as she stressed the 'many'. Her overemphasis caught him slightly off guard. His cunning smile grew. "But surely I don't need to say that a demon's name is a powerful thing." She said it as much for him as for herself.

She thought she heard someone calling for her.

"Do you know why?" he asked, grinning down on her. She felt his hands begin to massage her own. "Of course you do. You're a scholar, are you not?" She nodded. "With knowledge as vast as the Plain of Cana." He paused. "And as deep as the Ocean of Chaos." Fi's lip quivered, unsure of how to respond to what she believed to be a compliment.

"Saying a demon's name…" she began, watching his mouth again, "…is like a charm." She finally returned his smile.

"Tell me more," he said.

"A demon's name is a spell," Fi told him. His brow lifted in feigned incredulity.

"Really?" he asked through his teeth. She nodded again.

"A spell that affects only some."

"And who would that be?" he asked a little louder.

"Anyone predisposed to…" She shuddered as he inched closer. "…that individual's influence."

"But most would be impervious, correct?" he playfully argued.

"Yes, but why take the chance?"

"Of not being able to free your mind of his image? Is that what you mean, _Commander_?" Fi's smile lessened.

"Do you know my name?" she asked.

"I do," he said. "I've heard you discussed _many_ times."

"Is that so?"

"Mmhm," he affirmed.

"Are you as wary of speaking my name as I am of yours?"

"Don't be silly," he droned, looking away for a moment.

"Why not?" she asked, catering to humor. "Who's to say that an empyrean's name isn't as powerf—"

"I already know that it is," he interjected. Fi stiffened at his conviction. "It must be, judging by the number of times I've uttered it, and how often I've…" He ran his bottom lip between his teeth.

Fi felt a wave of warmth. She gave a soft gasp. Self-awareness tried to fight its way past her infatuation.

"Why did you come here for me?" she asked.

"That I might fly away with you," he said, taking her by surprise. She shook her head.

"What?" Fi's face contorted with confusion. "I'm your enemy. I've dedicated my life to the destruction of your race. Dozens of your people have died by my hand in these past months—"

"I don't care," he stated flatly.

"Many more have fallen in battles long past, because of _me_," she insisted.

"I am aware," he said.

"Hundreds," she said forcefully, vying for his unease. "Hundreds have succumbed because of me. _You_ have killed _my_ people. My…" Her voice cracked. Warmth returned to her, but for a different reason. "My friends. My comrades. People I've known since…" Her shoulders lowered as her face reflected her grief. "…Since the dawn of our sentience."

"It is fresh in your mind. I know."

"As it ought to be for you," she replied.

"It is but a game," he said quietly, carefully. "Do you not see it?"

"A game?" she asked, the heat lingering.

"Yes. War, battles, the clashing of realms, who wins, who dies… It is a game."

"It's not a _game_," Fi spat, gripping his hands. "You're…belligerent!" Her chest swelled with anger, but quickly deflated. Had she offended him?

She looked around. She suddenly felt the cold again. What was she doing here? _Flirting_ with a demon?

Her breathing sped up. She felt disgusted. "You could've killed Za," she murmured to the ground.

"Pardon?"

"One of my men. A _friend_. He died in the field, cut up and drowning in his own blood." She gazed into the depths of the forest. "Who do you suppose will carry that message back home?" She turned to him again. "'Last time I spoke with him, a red froth was dribbling down his chin, both of his eyes were gouged out, his arms were severed, and he was mumbling and sobbing about not wanting to die. _But_, he sends his love'." The demon's face fell blank. "Do you consider that a game, _sir_?"

"I purely do as I am told by my superiors, by my _king_," he answered. "But my true loyalties lie elsewhere."

"Then you are a traitor," Fi said scornfully.

"You know nothing about me."

"Apparently," Fi quipped. "When did you decide to defect?"

"When I discovered that which has the potency to claim a loyalty as immovable as mine." His candor left her speechless for a moment. Still, she was uncomfortable. With the demon's clues becoming less and less subtle, she decided to end the rendezvous.

"This _game_ is over," she said, turning away. She abruptly stopped as the top of her arm was seized. Shocked, she gaped at the forest floor.

"No," the demon said.

"Let go of me," she demanded.

"I need you," he said. She scoffed.

"Don't let your wanderings bring you this close to Hylia's realm again," she warned, pulling free.

Suddenly, she found herself skidding, spinning and colliding with the brawn of impenetrable arms. As one of the demon's hands gripped her hair, the other bound both wrists behind her back. Her hands instinctively lit, twisting, struggling and desperate. Her eyes were wide and frightened as two of her own reflections stared back at her.

"Please," the demon said breathily, "listen." Fi shook. She looked to the sky as she heard her name being called, but louder this time. She started to scream, but no sound was able to escape.

The demon's mouth swiftly covered hers, muffling her cry. A tongue, long and tepid, brushed the inside of her cheek as she felt the constriction of his lips. Her eyes opened even wider. The demon looked as astonished as she did.

"_I'm not trying to hurt you_," _he said_. Fi inhaled heavily. The mild scent of him was all around her.

"_Then what are you doing?"_

"_I just want you to do something for me."_

"_Do something?"_ _she asked._ "_What?"_

"_Say my name_," _he said._ She grunted into his mouth and convulsed in his arms.

"_I'm not saying anything! Let me go!"_

"_Don't you find it peculiar that we are able to connect like this?"_ _he asked._ She waited a moment.

"_Please, just—"_

"_No," he inveighed._ "_You must answer me this."_

"_I… All right… Yes, it is peculiar."_

"_Then, please just do me the honor—"_

"—of saying this for me," he said, pulling back. Fi's mouth gaped as she panted, grateful for the separation.

"Why?" she asked, her palms still alight.

"Because I have a hunch. And if that hunch is indicative of the truth, then I must ask something of you."

"What?" Fi asked, trying to catch her breath. She could scarcely believe what had just happened.

"_That_ I will tell you afterward."

"I really need to leave," Fi stated. "This is…wrong."

"Will you do this for me?"

Fi's answer consisted of a twist and a pull. She glowered at the demon, leaning in the direction of the Sealed Grounds. The long flyaway hairs on his head wafted about, picked up by a frigid breeze. The air whistled through branches that were just starting to lose their leaves. A violent shiver formed in her spine before tearing through her.

"You're chilled," the demon said, looking her up and down.

"Of course I'm chilled. I came out here to find a friend, and instead stood here in the cold whilst my body temperature fell due to inactivity. No need to be a scholar to see that."

"I was simply calling attention to my concern for your well-being," he said.

"Concern for my well-being?" Not what she would have expected to hear from a captain of the enemy's army. The demon made no effort to defend his statement.

"Fi!" a familiar voice called. She turned toward the sound.

"Will you not say it?" he asked as she moved away. She slid to a stop, glaring into the trees.

"Will you leave me alone after?" she asked. She listened to the soft shuffle of his feet.

"If you wish."

Fi didn't have to see him to know how he appeared: motionless, ears rigid, eyes centered on her every move. She closed her eyes and breathed in.

"Ghirahim," she said in compulsion. The word flowed easily, and came forth louder than she had intended. It hung in the air and rang in her ears. It gave her a feeling that was simply…

Wonderful.

She opened her eyes. Time seemed to stop.

A change was taking place. A pleasant heat, stronger than what anger could ever hope to cause, spread from her chest to her limbs. Emotion engulfed her in that moment.

Fear. Amazement. Longing. A thousand deductions and a rush of reasoning. She had to make sense of it, to justify it… to reason it away.

In her contemplation he had sidled up to her. She didn't want to look up, but the sensation of his hands on her shoulders forced her to. The tingling increased with his touch.

At last, their eyes came together.

"As I suspected," Ghirahim said with a satisfied sigh. Fi's thoughts raced uncontrollably.

"How ridiculous my mind must look to you," she said quietly, her arms hanging down. The demon shook his head.

"Not at all," he assured her.

"Why do I feel like this?" she asked. "Have you…influenced me somehow? You _are_ a magic user…"

"No," he answered.

"Why is this happening?"

"I knew when I saw you that day," Ghirahim said.

"You knew what?"

"That you are special, and that I had to pursue you."

"Me?"

"I am fascinated by you," the demon said, his voice heavy and sensual. "Were you not fascinated with me from the moment we met?"

"I don't…" Fi began.

"You must feel it more now," the demon said, his eyes hopeful.

"I…don't know what I feel…" Fi admitted.

"Commander!" someone called. A female voice. Fi tensed at the sound. What would her companions think if they saw her…?

"She is far off," Ghirahim said as if to soothe her. "Don't worry about her, or any of them."

"I need to go," Fi insisted.

"I need something from you." The demon's stare stilled her fidgeting.

"What do you need?" she asked, wonder veiling her face.

"I need what you need," he said, his hand rising. He dragged two fingers down her cheek.

"To leave with me. Now." His statement was so firm.

"Why? You're my enemy." She couldn't say it enough. "I just met you."

"Months ago," Ghirahim said. "How many hours have I occupied your thoughts? If it is even a fraction of the time that I have spent—"

"It doesn't matter," Fi countered. "You're not making sense. Why should I leave with you?" She gaped at him. "Who _are_ you?"

"There are rumors," Ghirahim said, his expression changing. Fi's relentless calculations slowed down. "Whispers that I have been selected for a position which…"

"You don't wish to fill," Fi said on his behalf, immediately understanding.

"Yes."

"How do _I_, a soldier in Hylia's army, have anything to do with that, or with _you_?"

"Plenty," he said with a thick breath. Fi eyed his mouth again. "What are you looking at?" She looked up in surprise, embarrassed that he noticed. "I believe what you're thinking is, 'If his name alone is enough to induce such a feeling in me…'" He pulled her closer. "...'then what must it feel like to…?'"

He stopped. Fi just stared. He was right. Telepathy – it was a double-edged sword.

She shouldn't have been there, but she was. She shouldn't have been in the arms of her enemy, but she was. She shouldn't have been raising her hands to grasp his shoulders, but she was.

She tugged carefully, guiding him to her.

When they came together again, there was no more hypothecating. It was pure sensation.

It was nothing but heat, the scent of the forest, the slickness of armor, the sweet taste of the demon's mouth, the sight of his face that was much too close but not unwelcome—

Harmony and need. It spread from her lips to the rest of her body. It was overflowing…

If this was love, then it had completely blindsided her. She had never felt better. She wanted more of it; more of _him_.

It had been years since she had made love to a man.

The drive came upon her like a flood. Built-up anger and hidden bitterness over the injustices of the war crept up to join her growing desire. It was heard in her voice and felt in her hands as she unknowingly demanded the demon's affections.

He eagerly released them to her. As she pushed into him, he did the same, wrapping his arms around her. As her mouth filled with him, she embraced him harder. On her behest, he tightened his grip.

Back, back Ghirahim pushed her. Her feet skittered until she felt the coarse surface of a boulder press to her back. She breathed in sharply, startled. The pair's eyes opened together. Still holding his shoulders, Fi felt his hands run from her waist to her hips, taking a leisurely route around her backside. She sighed, enjoying his touch.

It was dangerous. It was forbidden. She just had to have more. Her breathing sped up, mirroring the demon's.

"Commander Fi!"

The voice was louder now. It invaded their space as Ghirahim thrust himself against her. She flinched. The hardness of his lower body hurt her.

Surely he felt as constricted as she did. Their clothing was in the way.

Her thoughts left the demon tentative about nothing. She could tell that he knew exactly what she wanted. It was what _he_ wanted.

"Mmm," she groaned, urging his eyes to open again.

"Commander!"

"Ugh," she sighed, this time in frustration. The demon withdrew, his slightly disheveled hair hanging over his shoulder.

"You can go if you like," he told her, regaining his breath. With her head spinning, she dithered.

"Go?" she asked. He nodded.

"Yes."

"But…"

She wavered, caught between what made sense and what was undeniably farcical.

She couldn't decide whether she was thinking with her head, her heart, or her body. Maybe none of them. Maybe she wasn't thinking _at all_.

She noticed that he was starting to grin.

Who had the upper hand here? She grumbled inwardly, dissatisfied with herself.

"I think I _will_ go," she said, keeping her face as blank as possible. Ghirahim grinned anyway.

"I would like to see you again," he said, his hands dropping to hers.

"When?" Fi asked without a second thought. Yet again, her own response left her dumbfounded.

"Soon. We've a matter to discuss."

"You mean, the matter of us flying away together?" She lifted a thin eyebrow.

"If you would, please forgive my overzealousness," he said, bowing his head. His striking smile never left.

Fi's heart beat in her ears as he stared at her, resolute and determined.

"_I _will _come back for you_," _he said_.

"_Maybe you shouldn't_," _she replied._

"_Do you desire it?"_

She grinned at his word choice. She simply gazed, silently sharing with him her opinion on the subject.

"Very well, then," he said, turning to leave.

She witnessed his departure through the trees. Into the gloom of the woods he disappeared. It was almost as if he'd never been there. She stood in the void, pondering whether he actually had been or not.

When she heard her name once more, she cleared her throat, shook out her arms and stepped briskly toward the Sealed Grounds.

It didn't take long for her to be discovered. As soon as she emerged from the undergrowth, two frantic female soldiers ran up to her. The ecstatic jabbering and rapid-fire questions of the two empyreans went ignored as Fi was barraged by her own wonderings.

What she had just felt in the woods…in that secret little nook…was it…real?

"_Are you questioning the validity of your instincts?"_

As Fi's companions chattered on and pulled her to Hylia's Temple, she peeked over her shoulder. She expected to see a tall figure standing at the edge of the forest. But, no one.

"_I question the validity of everything." _She faced forward. She didn't expect the reply that she would receive.

"_To question is one thing. But to place faith where faith is due is another." _Fi smiled to herself.

"_And to what do I owe my faith?"_

"_Keep an open mind, and you will find out."_

"Hm…" Fi murmured, paying no heed to her high-strung comrades.

In no time at all, the small group circumvented the chasm and approached the foot of the temple. With their distracted friend successfully retrieved and disinterested in talking, the soldiers backed away.

Looking at the ground as she traversed a daydream, Fi stumbled upon the jarring sight of two familiar leather boots. She stared for a moment, her mind entertaining a new wave of concerns.

In time, her gaze came up, making a slow and steady climb from woolen pants to a green tunic. It came to a sudden stop as it crossed the face of the one before her.

Link stood with torso twisted and right hand poised to grasp the hilt of the sword perched on his back.

Fi couldn't tell whether he was about to unsheathe his weapon or if he had just put it away. Based on his position, he could have been doing either. The expression on his face certainly was not giving her any hints.

What she _could_ tell with confidence, however, was that the venerable saying was true, if only in that moment: the eyes were indeed the windows to the soul.

And his soul was a pool of contrasts. It was whole, yet shaken from the events of the past year. It was unbreakable, yet cracked in places. Its edges were frayed. It was young in age but old in experience. He had seen far too much for someone so young.

He was innocent yet held the look of a grizzled man. His sidelong glance in Fi's direction made her nervous. It was as if he knew something.

Maybe he did. Perhaps he had seen her in the woods. Or maybe the vestige of the clandestine act showed on her face.

Fi sighed, convinced that logic and reason were dead-set on betraying her this evening. How could Link possibly know what she had just done?

She didn't feel like a scholar any longer. She felt more like a child who'd been caught sneaking away from a shameful activity…

_No. I am empyrean. I answer to _no_ human,_ she told herself, only making herself feel worse.

"Are you all right?" Link asked, his hand coming down to rest by his side. Now she would never know what he had planned to do with his weapon.

"Fine," she chimed. Link looked around, appearing on his guard.

"It isn't safe to go off alone," he said. "Not after what happened today. These woods are dangerous." Fi analyzed him, trying to read his intentions: to scold her, to make known his concern, or both. She decided on the first.

"I'm fine," she said again. Behind her orderly façade, she wrestled with her feelings. Guilt and a profound need for self-justification were among them. If Link knew, then she would have to explain herself. But, how?

And why was he the only one asking questions?

"Where did _you_ go?" she asked, watching his head shift along with the topic. "I am well aware that these woods are dangerous, and that's precisely why I entered them tonight. You never came to dinner, so I started to fret. When a soldier told me that he'd seen you walk into the woods alone, I followed you. At least, I thought I'd followed you."

"I did go into the woods, but only for a few minutes," Link said. "I thought I' heard someone calling for me."

"Calling for you?" Fi asked.

"I could've sworn I heard my name," he said with a shrug. "Right after you left for the mess hall I searched the woods, but didn't find anyone. I thought that someone might've been injured, so I made my way to Faron Field."

"Did you find anything?"

"No."

"That's strange," Fi said. The pair watched quietly as a kikwi waddled past.

"I know. But I did come across an injured mogma on the path to the field. I helped him back to the temple. But when I asked him if he was calling for help, he said no."

"I see…"

"When I came back, all anyone seemed to know was that you'd gone off looking for me. It took us a while to figure out that you went into the forest. At that point, we started getting worried. A bunch of us grabbed our swords—"

"Yes, I heard my name being called."

"Some of us thought maybe you were kidnapped," Link said, looking down. "There're a lot of forest bokoblins around. The demon realm bokoblins are even more vicious. And the demons…" He fell silent as he looked into her eyes. "We thought that something bad had happened."

"Well, I'm fine," Fi assured him, holding her hands out as if to prove it. "We just kept missing each other. That's all." Link nodded. "I'm guessing you haven't eaten yet." He shook his head. "Well, come on." She wrapped an arm around him, mindful of the scabbard and shield which hung from his shoulders. "I'm sure there's still plenty to eat." Link slipped his hand under her cloak and around her waist, resting the crook of his arm against her.

Fi relaxed, convinced that Link knew nothing.

"I'm keeping my sword with me," he said, flipping the green tip of his protective headwear behind him. "The danger hasn't left yet."

….

The days succeeding the fall of the demons' leader contained no shortage of work for those in Hylia's army. Fueled by the satisfaction of a victory well-earned, the Goddess's soldiers bounded around, wholeheartedly completing whatever tasks they were given.

Most of the members of the surface tribes returned to their homes. Similarly, a portion of empyrean soldiers returned to their realm below the heavens, bringing with them their injured comrades. Several hundred stayed on the surface, however, committed to continuing the work of the Goddess. The war might have been over, but the labor of the soldiers was not.

As life on the surface entered a new phase, the atmosphere changed. Good had prevailed, and a new air of peace draped the land. More than ever, the people were happy to be there.

The dead were collected and prepared for burial in a designated area in the woods. The building of the Skyview Temple, a Deep Woods hideaway to serve Hylia for the remainder of her time on the surface, was well underway. The rebuilding of mogma villages near Eldin Volcano and kikwi communities throughout the forest kept throngs of men and women busy from dawn to dusk.

After observing the seemingly never ending busywork around her, Fi had to admit that the guarding of the Sealed Grounds was the most leisurely assignment she could have asked for. Naturally, she was disappointed when she heard that Link had turned down this stress-free job for a more hands-on task – freelancing between the multitude of building projects.

With varying jobs to do, Link was rarely around for Fi to talk to. But in the hours that he was there, she cherished him. The occasional dinner and infrequent conversation under a setting sun was what she would look forward to the most. Gradually, as more and more work was completed, their time together increased.

As much as Fi wished for him to take full advantage of his hard-earned right to unwind in Hylia's realm, she knew that he delighted in hard work. Nothing seemed to make him happier than to work with others toward a common goal, especially one that would reconstruct what had been unjustly taken.

Having had enough of sprinting from place to place, Fi gladly filled the post by the Sealed Grounds. It was solitary and uneventful. The demons had retreated to their own realm, leaving behind the devastation that their reckless king had caused. She would often look around and marvel, barely able to believe that such a bloody battle had raged in the very place that she now stood.

From time to time, when the sun was low and the darkness was gaining strength, she would hear Ghirahim's voice. Some days it was clear and robust; other days it was vague. She supposed that the vigor of it was correlated to the demon's nearness, or lack thereof.

It would explain the jolt that she would sometimes feel when the voice was loud and clear. It pranced through her head with an unmistakable vim.

At times, she was certain that long, pale fingers were going to coil around her shoulders. She could practically feel the warm mist of his breath as he whispered into her ear…

And the caress of his tongue as it flicked gently across her skin…

Then she would jump, immediately lurching back to reality, and nothing would be there; nothing but the carefree chirp of birds settling down in the peaceful gloaming.

As Fi stood guard, hours turned to days, and days to weeks. She began to wonder if the demon was ever going to come back like he'd said he would…

She was too preoccupied with him. Repeatedly, she reprimanded herself for it. But there was no denying how the voice in her head made her feel.

It was not only the voice, but the image of his muscular form. The sight of the handsome demon wasn't disagreeable in the least.

The most powerful of all, however, was not the voice _or_ the image, but the name. It was strange how one word could jostle her the way that it did. This mysterious force held by the demons was odd enough in theory; when its effects were actually experienced, however, it was enough to boggle the mind…

Utilizing her ability to distinguish between genuine feelings and those of prurience, Fi kept considering the possibility that her reaction to the demon and her fixation on him translated to something bigger – perhaps love.

She had loved and lost many times in the past, but, every time, those individuals had been empyrean. Never before had the object of her affections been the member of an enemy tribe.

Circumspectly, and maybe a bit impishly, she would speak the eight-letter word just to feel its aftereffects. The pleasant sensation seemed to strengthen with every repetition and surge with every subsequent syllable.

The only person able to whisk Fi's thoughts back to where they belonged was Link. In fact, conversing with him was the only thing that kept her mind off of the demon, and their meeting in the woods—

Especially when the pair would idly discuss Skyloft and Empyrea, and their plans for the near future.

Fi might have never been involved romantically with a demon, but she had never committed herself to a human, either. Both prospects were bizarre in their own rights.

As the crisp autumn weather gave way to the frigidness of winter, the demon's voice showed itself less and less frequently. Yet, his image remained. Fi continuously thought about him. But, in terms of her endearment, Link was a force to be reckoned with, as well.

After all, this human was different than any she had ever encountered. Not only did he not require her protection, but he avidly offered his own. He was one of the first true human warriors, ushering in the start of a new era.

Not only that, but he was the kindest individual she had ever known. This in itself was enough to secure her fascination. His physical appeal was simply surplus. And – unless it was her imagination – the weeks seemed to be adding inches to his height.

The idea of a human and an empyrean in a serious relationship was deemed odd by almost everyone. In truth, any relationship – even one of a purely sexual nature – was considered strange. In comparison to a long-lived empyrean, a human was like a puff of smoke, here one moment and gone the next. It couldn't be helped that the wealth of experience of an empyrean far outmatched that of even the oldest and wisest of humans. Out of death's reach in Empyrea, its people had the promise of eternity; an infinite amount of time to learn, to improve, to teach, to love, to win, to lose, and to live. What could someone who had seen the equivalent of dozens of human lives have in common with one who considered reaching centenarian status the ultimate achievement? A mortal joined with a semi-immortal – to most, the only possible result was disappointment.

Yet, when Fi looked at Link, she saw an already great person maturing into something even better; something that broke down the barriers between races. Put simply, even to someone as accomplished as Fi, Link was worth it.

As the sun set on one of Fi's final days on the surface, she watched him come, returning from another arduous day of work in the woods. As always, his shield and sword toed the line along with him. Leaving the dense forest behind, he stepped into the golden light. Dust was kicked up, swirling amidst the rays as he lifted a hand to run his fingers through his hair.

With the shadowy chasm behind her, Fi patiently awaited him. It seemed to happen in slow motion. The tall grass parted as he walked, sending harmless insects flittering in every direction. Both hands went to his chest where they began unbuckling the straps slung over his right shoulder. Soon, his scabbard slid off of his back, bringing with it the heavy shield. With arms full of iron, his contented grin grew into a full-blown smile. He had seen her.

Excitement bubbled inside of her. It couldn't be helped. This was the most pleasant time of day. And, amazingly, this would be Link's second evening in a row back at camp; two consecutive nights off – unheard of. He was even in time for dinner.

Admiring that clever grin that he was so well known for, Fi smiled back. She inhaled, feeling something. She wasn't sure what. Her smile left her. Things were beginning to feel…different.

It wasn't a bad feeling. Her instincts were simply picking up on a change, and she was reacting to it. The end of the dark period carried with it the sort of environment that allowed for hindered relationships to bloom. It enabled that which was stalled to become what it was meant to be. Finally. The evidence lay in the sheer amount of soldiers who were now enamored.

As Link came to a stop in front of her, Fi pondered. The winds of change certainly hadn't left her untouched.

"I think you take your sword and shield off sooner every time you step out of those woods," she said. "I'm betting that next time you'll already have them off before I even see you." Link slipped his shield under his arm.

"There won't be a next time," he said, his forehead gleaming with sweat and one side of his face smeared with dirt.

"What do you mean?" Fi asked with a split-second of anxiety. Link chuckled.

"The forest villages are coming together a lot faster than we thought," he said. "Skyview is, as well. It's almost finished."

"I can't believe it," Fi said with a sigh. "A few weeks ago it was just a foundation."

"It's incredible. Built right beside that mountain-fed spring. There's a statue of the Goddess being sculpted right now. It looks exactly like her, too. They plan to put it right at the head of the spring, where the water flows in."

"Sounds beautiful," Fi said.

"It is. You'll have to visit it before we…" He stopped, giving them a few seconds to stare at each other. "…you leave, I mean." Fi nodded.

"I will," she concluded. She observed as he fidgeted with his scabbard. He hung it on his shoulder.

"I should get cleaned up," he said, peeling his gauntlets off of his hands. He stuck them in the pouch on his belt.

"Oh, yes," Fi said. She pursed her lips, holding back the questions that she wanted to ask.

"See you in the mess hall?" Link asked, starting to walk away.

"Yes!" Fi replied, half-stuck in thought. Link gave her a grin before marching southeastward to a nearby stream. She shook her head at her overly enthusiastic response. She looked down at her dark robe. A change of clothes was in order.

As soon as the nightshift guards arrived, Fi rushed off. Jogging eastward past the mess hall, she made her way to the tents.

Bypassing the wonderful aroma of whatever was being prepared tonight, she waded through a quarter of a mile of brush. Popping out on the other side, she entered an enormous clearing. Four long rows of tents stretched out before her, separated just enough to allow for room to walk, as well as for small fires and makeshift racks for hanging uniforms.

Following the first row, Fi walked until she reached the sixth tent – her home for the past year. She ducked, pushing through two flaps of cotton canvas. Once inside, she straightened, narrowly avoiding brushing the roof with her head. Being a captain, she was fortunate enough to have a sheepskin rug to spare her bare feet from the unforgiving ground. It was woven from the wool of the wild flocks that once made up the livelihood of the surface-dwelling humans. The animals that had escaped the carnage of the pre-war attacks spread themselves out among the fertile fields and forests to the south of the volcano and to the east of the desert.

Fi removed her boots for a moment to bury her toes into the lavish fibers. After scuffling through the tight space, she sat on her bed. The misshapen, straw-stuffed bag of linen was dreadfully uncomfortable compared to what she had in Empyrea; but, for most of Hylia's soldiers, it would have to do. More often than not, though, Fi would simply snuggle against her woolen rug to sleep.

But, right now, she was not here to rest.

Fishing through her wooden storage chest, she pulled out a comb. Running it through her long hair, she tried to decide what to wear.

According to what Link had said earlier, this was a special occasion. It deserved a nice outfit. Nice in comparison to her usual drab uniform, anyway.

She had two outfits from which to choose. Not a large selection, but suitable for a soldier on the surface. She had long ago given up hope that she would ever get the opportunity to wear her civilian clothes. This was rather thrilling.

After a few minutes' deliberation, Fi chose the fancier of the two ensembles: a form-fitting, emerald-hued, just-below-knee-length dress made of fine silken material, native to her empyrean city. She removed her blue cloak and robe, leaving the linen undergarment in place. She wriggled into the much thinner dress.

She peered down, running her fingertips under her collarbone, hoping that the top of the dress wasn't too revealing. It showed the very top of her chest, exposing only a hint of her modest breasts. She quickly determined that this was her only option, considering the alternatives. She shrugged, grabbed her cloak and slipped her shoes on. The leather boots didn't match her outfit, of course, but an array of shoes was not something she had at her disposal at the moment. If Link really wanted to see her at her best, he would have to come back to Empyrea with her.

With a little giggle over the coincidence of her choosing a dress that matched Link's tunic, she exited her tent and swung her cloak over her shoulders. Her smooth indigo hair caught the very last of the light. She watched her breath rise into the air, feeling the cold on her legs. Satisfaction settled on her face.

To her surprise, she was not the only soldier in her camp to leave behind her uniform for the evening.

_There must be something about today,_ she thought.

Nearing the mess hall, Fi's stomach began to feel tight. Why was she nervous? Warmth from several fires and a hearty fragrance blanketed her, soothing her nerves.

She looked around. Contained fires blazed around the many tables, providing a much needed reprieve from the wintry cold. She shivered.

She looked for Link, but didn't see him. A sudden flashback of his disappearance from several weeks ago came to mind. She scoffed, brushing it off. How many times had they had dinner together since then? She had nothing to worry about.

Listening to the murmur of dozens of voices, Fi sat at a small table on the outskirts of the dining area. She rested her face in her hand and gazed into the nearby flames, transfixed.

Crackling and sparking, it kept her spellbound for several minutes as she waited. With each second that passed, she dazed, floating in a dreamlike state full of images of the young blond soldier. A smile played on her lips.

"Fi?"

Gasping, she bolted upright. Her soft purple eyes broadened. Rigid, she looked upon the person who had been occupying her thoughts all evening; or, more accurately, all year. She didn't say anything. Link leaned in.

"I just wanted to make sure it was you," he said. "You look different." Fi looked down.

"Oh," she said uneasily. "I thought I should wear something a bit more…elegant tonight." She gave him a demure look, hoping that he didn't take her honesty the wrong way. Humans were difficult to read sometimes…

The first thing he did was look down.

"I'm afraid I didn't have the same idea," he said with a regretful smile. His hands came up. "I'm not much in comparison to you."

"Are you kidding?" Fi asked without thinking.

"Um, no," Link said with a chuckle. He sat down next to her. Fi turned to him, tired of feeling silly about everything that was coming out of her mouth. She had never fretted excessively over every word like this, especially with a man. Now was certainly not the time to start. And, besides that, Link seemed amused by what she was implying.

She sighed. Perhaps it was time for a more direct approach.

"I've never seen you look bad," she said. "Especially in your uniform."

"What about after the fight at the Sealed Grounds?" he asked. "I looked pretty terrible then."

"Not at all," she said, scrunching her face a bit.

"You're just being polite."

"No, I mean it. You're…" Fi tapped her finger, not wanting to say the wrong thing. Coy was not the mask that she wanted to wear at the moment, either. No mask would be preferable. "Wonderful."

She swallowed. What did 'wonderful' have to do with how he looked the day of the Sealed Grounds battle?

According to the expression on Link's face, he was thinking. He also appeared flattered. Much better than what Fi was expecting to see – outright bewilderment.

So, she waited.

"I think you're wonderful, too," Link said, looking as pleased as Fi had hoped he would. Feeling a twinge, she made herself answer him.

"Thank you."

They proceeded to stare at the fire. People were darting to and fro all around them, but Fi hardly noticed.

"Um," Link said, breaking the silence, "we came here to eat, right?" Fi slowly shifted her eyes.

"Yes, we did." Link's expectant look was met with more silence from Fi. They gawked at one another.

_My vocabulary is larger than most, _Fi reasoned._ Why is it so hard to find the right words?_

"Maybe we should get our food," he said, his voice monotone. He seemed fixated.

"Yes," Fi repeated with a choppy nod.

"Or maybe we can go somewhere where there's less people," he suggested.

"Oh?" she asked, scanning their surroundings. "Aren't you hungry?"

"No, not really," he said.

"Oh…"

"Are you?" he asked. Fi shook her head.

"I suppose not…" she said.

Link nodded. She did the same.

"Well," he began, "I _am_ hungry, I guess. But I just wanted to go somewhere to talk." Fi cracked a tiny smile.

"Me too," she said. They laughed together at their childishness.

"I think that makes us both liars," Link said.

"Perhaps," Fi said, relieved. She breathed in, surreptitiously relishing the way that the flames danced in his eyes. A breath that was heavier than she would have liked left her. Link rose to his feet. Fi looked up. He offered a hand.

"Want to go to the overlook?" he asked. Fi looked past him. Two empyreans at a neighboring table gave them an odd look. She refocused on him.

"I would love to," she said, taking his hand.

They promptly left the commotion of the mess hall. Fi glanced down as she was pulled, enjoying the feel of Link's hand as much as she had his eyes. She used her free hand to hold her cloak in place as it flew out behind her, the cold numbing her nose.

They quickly came upon the Temple of Hylia. Without a sound, they vanished into the foliage beside it. They followed the side of the building, practically running until they reached the edge. A glade opened up before them, displaying a scattering of trees before giving way to more forest.

A light squeeze to Link's hand stopped him. He looked back.

"Don't want to go to the overlook?" he inquired.

"Somehow, a high place affording a nice view doesn't sound terribly appealing at the moment…" Fi paused until he had turned to face her. "The view right here is…" Her eyes fell. "Just fine." She sensed his smile.

The two gravitated to the rear wall of the temple. They each rested a shoulder against the algid stone.

"It _is_ breathtaking," Link said, laying the side of his head against the wall. Fi thought she saw him steal a glance at her chest. She tightened her fingers. When she took a peek herself, she saw that her dress had slipped down, exposing a more generous area than she was aware of. Her mouth dropped.

_I hope he doesn't think I did that on purpose…_

She cleared her throat, clinging harder to what covered her shoulders but left her chest bare. What she really wanted to do was adjust her dress, but Link was watching her…

"Why don't you just button it?" he asked, eyeing the part of her cloak that was being mashed in her hand. Fi's gaze came up.

"Oh, well—" But her sentence was cut off by the tender sweep of fingers across her chest. She let her arm drop as Link claimed each side of her cloak for his own, beginning to fasten it carefully below her neck. As he concentrated on his task, Fi stared at him, endeavoring to hold back the gasp that was threatening to erupt from her. As it was, her breathing was close to being erratic.

His hands tickled. It was a wonderful feeling. She had never been so grateful for a man's temporary lack of manual dexterity.

He couldn't seem to secure the button. Fi smiled as the tip of his tongue played at the corner of his mouth. Her own mouth gaped slightly as she studied his face. It twisted in thought. The harder he tried, the more he touched her.

She choked back a groan. Her eyes closed. She rocked on her toes and pulled her shoulders back, asking for more as imperceptibly as she possibly could. With her movement, the sides of Link's hands rubbed against her. There was no denying it – he had felt her breast.

Fi gave a little squeak. Link seemed to freeze in place. He stared at her chest as if he'd just set off a bomb.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, no longer fumbling with the button.

"No, it's fine," Fi breathed. Her warily excited respiring gained her another touch of his hand. As he was about to pull away, Fi took hold of his hands, pressing them to her. He looked up.

They stood quietly. Fi circled her palms against the backs of his hands. She could feel his toughened yet smooth skin against hers. Those hands – hardened by months and months of fighting – couldn't feel better. She curled her toes, wanting to feel more of the hands that had wielded the Master Sword for so long. They were special; unique. Stripped of leather gauntlets, they felt like they belonged on her.

Her eyes dropped again. She wondered what other forms of armor the young soldier had forgone under his fine-looking tunic.

"I'm not the best at buttoning things," Link admitted. Fi laughed.

"A strange irony, considering your extraordinary agility," she noted.

"I think it's my impatience. I'm also not the best at waiting for things…" They both grinned.

"Speaking of waiting for things," Fi said, "something's been pressing on my mind."

"What's that?"

"Your plans," she eked out, sidetracked by his touch. "I mean, what you plan on doing… Where you plan on going. Have you decided?" The scent of the forest swept past them on a breeze.

"I have," he said.

"Where will you go?" Fi asked rapidly. Her hands tautened around his.

"I plan on going to the sky." Fi gave a light sigh.

"I'm glad," she told him. "I've been so afraid that you'd choose the surface. Somehow I knew that you'd be happier elsewhere."

"The surface isn't for me anymore," he said. "Now that my village is gone…well, _every_ village is gone, there's nothing here for me."

"Some of your people are planning on staying," she said. "Have you heard?"

"Yes. There's talk of a trip out west, to the desert. The 'wild frontier' is what they call it."

"Dozens of them are going," Fi added.

"Empyreans, as well," Link said.

"I thought maybe you would go with them."

"I might be more at home among other soldiers," Link said with a shrug, "but I think I need to leave this place."

"I understand."

"I'm surprised that they aren't heading to Empyrea," Link said. "Sounds much more hospitable than the desert. Especially with so many of the women being pregnant…" The conversation halted as the rather hitching topic was brought up. For the most part, people avoided talking about it. Fi nodded.

"I think they just want to make a fresh start somewhere," she said. "How accepted their children will be…" She shook her head. "No one can tell, you know?"

"I guess."

"They'll be okay." Link looked at their hands as more silence rose up.

"So…" he said softly. "What do you plan on doing?" His ears perked slightly.

"I…haven't made up my mind yet," she said, glancing away.

"No? You're not going back home?"

"Well, I will _eventually_," she said, dragging out the last word. She bit her tongue, hoping that he would catch her drift.

"All right, well…" Link said. "I don't know if I want to go to the sky, then."

"Oh? Why?" Fi's eyes grew.

"I do want to go to the sky, and all, but…" He gave her a stern look. "Only if you're going to come, too."

_Thank the Goddesses…_

Fi shut her eyes, feeling as though she may melt from the inside out.

"I don't necessarily need to stay there," Link said. "But I at least need to see what they've built, and how things are going for everyone."

"Definitely," Fi said.

"I'd love to see Empyrea, too… Experience your home…" His eyes shimmered.

"I'd be honored…" Fi tilted forward. "I'm so glad all of this is finally over."

"Me too," Link said, holding her hands tighter. He came nearer.

Fi swallowed. For approximately the tenth time, Fi's gaze made its way to Link's mouth, settling on his lips. They were inviting…

_Oh, Din, if only I could…_ She blinked slowly. _…See what he feels like…_

Her eyes closed completely before she was able to see the look on his face. Each inched closer to the other. Fi opened her mouth just a tiny bit, and he did the same. She breathed in, anticipating the warmth and softness—

"_Captain?"_

The word rushed through Fi's head. She gasped loudly. Flinching, Link gawked at her.

"What is it?" he asked. She set her sights on the distant trees, whispering to herself.

"I had almost forgotten… How could I have forgotten about you?"


	28. What is True and What is False

_And lucky review#400 goes to darkin!_

Chapter 28

What is True and What is False

"_Age cannot wither him, nor custom stale his infinite variety…"_

Drowsy from all of Fi's longwinded storytelling, Link snuggled against Crimson's cozy feathers, lulled by the gentle sway of the bird's flying.

"_It's a terrible thing, sky child…"_

From right to left, Link rolled his face over on Crimson's soft back. He mumbled in his sleep.

"Mmmm…?"

"_A false sense of security. Terrible, is it not?"_

He held his breath in his sleep.

"_Think back, my little human…"_

He exhaled heavily, shivering as the familiar voice caressed his mind.

"_Think back to _our time."

Link slowly ran his fingers through Crimson's feathers, rubbing his fingertips amongst the silky fibers.

"_When you reached such a glorious state in my arms that you nearly liquefied. Do not tell me that you've forgotten…"_

Link gently scraped his nails across the dark skin beneath his bird's wings. Crimson turned a golden eye to his sleeping master.

"_Do you really think that you are now safe? That the sky will be your safeguard?_

Link grimaced, feeling something on his back.

"_Safety does not exist for you, sky child."_

"No…" Link shook his head.

"_Did you really believe that by invalidating just one thing that I said to you would prove me a wretched liar? To exaggerate is not necessarily to lie. Do not confuse the two, human."_

Link shut his eyes tighter.

"_Hyperbole. We are all guilty of it sometimes. Especially when we are _excited_…"_

He shook his head again.

"_And speaking of guilty…"_

He flipped his face the other way, restless, knowing what was coming.

"_You, my dear, sweet hero…are as guilty…as…can…be."_

"…Why?" Link whispered, holding tautly to Crimson's sides. The enormous bird gave a low chirp.

"_For dismissing me. Forgetting about me, and everything that happened between us. Do you realize that one simply does not walk away from death in the demon realm?"_

"_What happened between us?" Link thought. "All you did was torment me. Nothing more."_

"_And the foolishness lives on," the demon taunted. "How many times must I say it, human?"_

"_What…?"_

"_Eventually, _I_ will be the only one in your world. You will be drawn to me like—"_

"_A moth to a flame?" _Link hugged Crimson tighter.

"_Like a bride is swept into her husband's first embrace."_

"…_That's not exactly—"_

"_But it is _true_, sky child. Like your foolishness, beating around the bush must come to an end."_

"_How have I been foolish?_

"_In the short time that you've been away from me, you've discounted every word, every experience…everything that I've taught you."_

"_You taught me nothing except that you're vile," Link replied._

"_Am I? No, sky child. My only wish is for you to succeed, to be well, to excel. "_

"_So you terrorize me for hours before you kill me with my own sword? Is that supposed to benefit me somehow?"_

"_A lesson, sky child. A valuable one. I've already explained this to you."_

"_And what am I supposed to learn from your 'lesson'?"_

"_Your place. That to fear and revere me is the wisest decision you will ever make. That to trust my words will soon prove to be your only option. That you just might end up with no one on your side. No one, sky child, except for me."_

"_I've already seen through your lies about my friends. Why should I believe anything you say?"_

"_I have not lied about your friends. Your three confidantes – your _rocks_ – will all betray you."_

"_If you're so sure, then tell me how it will happen," Link challenged._

"_Hm. You will find out in time."_

"_You lie…"_

"_Believe it, human."_

"_Something catastrophic would have to happen for me to choose you over them."_

"_Mm, you'd be surprised to discover how little is needed for a person to learn who his true friends and enemies are."_

"_I already have that figured out."_

"_Do you? Do you, really?"_

"_Completely."_

"_Then riddle me this, human: why were you jealous of your best friend?"_

"_Jealous of what?" _Link clenched Crimson's bird squawked.

"_Why, of his visit with me, of course."_

"_Why would I be jealous of that?"_

"_Concern overshadows your envy, but envy is there just the same, sky child. From the moment that you learned of what your friend had done, jealousy was born. Let us not forget that one can only hold jealousy for something that one cares about, or _wants_."_

"_Ridiculous."_

"_I am your want, sky child, even if you fail to recognize it. It is so deep-seated that it will forever be a part of you."_

"_I don't believe it."_

"_We are connected. Not only in body, but in mind. It is only natural for you to feel invidious toward your friend – for what he experienced, you covet."_

"…_What?"_

"_What I didn't give you in the woods. What I held back from you. What you've been simply _dying_ for."_

"_That's not—"_

"_Don't feign ignorance. You are filled with desire for me. Desire to be near me, to have me for your own. Do you remember how magnificent you came to feel_ _deep in the woods?"_

"_You must not be referring to the Acheron Woods – the time that you dragged me around and threatened to do unspeakable things to me with my sword." _Link shifted uncomfortably.

"_Just a good-humored game, sky child."_

"_Oh, of course…"_

"_Silly human. No, the second time. That intense pleasure, while by your own hand, was because of me. Imagine…just _imagine _what it will be like to finally have what you dreamed of last night. Your new life. Endless pleasure—"_

"_And endless pain," Link interrupted. "I think that's what _you_ dream of. The second half of my dream."_

"_It is what we both dream of. Something extraordinary happened in my realm, sky child. You…me…us."_

Link flinched as the touch of a hand dragged over him, blowing under his clothes and against his skin like a breeze. He breathed in, feeling warmth spread across his lower body before settling.

"_Your desire will keep building, and building, and building. You cannot fight it forever."_

In his sleep, Link squirmed, unknowingly attracting more of his loftwing's attention.

"_You have had a certain _problem, _my little human, have you not? Trouble with something that has always been important to you – your pride and joy… Your…instrument."_

"Mm, why?" Link groaned.

"Where you are going, you will need your musical ability. Come and see me… Come to me, and we will resolve this problem…together."

A pleasurable sensation enveloped him, teasing and beckoning…

"_You embraced me in the manor. Even though you had your friends with you, you came back to me in the forest temple. You sought me out in the woods in spite of the presence of your little red-haired woman. You felt concern for me more than once. You desire me in your dreams. Face it, sky child."_

Link panted, his unconscious mind anything but peaceful. "I'm not going to forget what you did." Phantom pain in his right hand and chest flared up.

"_Face it, sky child. Admit it to me. Admit it to yourself— you want me_. _In fact, you _like_ me."_

"There's no way…" Link grumbled.

"_Do you know what is so special about this moment, my dear human?"_

Breathing heavily, Link curled against the scarlet mass underneath him. He was aware of what he was feeling and what he was doing, but not of how to stop himself. To be in a dream was to be a victim of one's deepest, darkest, and most sequestered desires.

"_In sleep, there are no secrets_."

Link licked his lip, feeling exposed to the demon. It was nothing new. In fact, it really wasn't so bad. In a way, it was a relief.

Anyone who wasn't jealous of Link or too busy accusing him of being a troublemaker based on his past mistakes tended to stick him on a pedestal. The best fighter, honorable in every way, innocent, a model knight, Skyloft's most accomplished musician – he had been given many labels by many people.

To finally find someone who could see through the veil, who challenged him, who laid it all bare…

Who gave him… Who gave…him—

"_What is it that you like most about me, human?"_

The only other person intuitive enough to know what was false and what was true in him was Henya, the breakfast cook in his dormitory. He missed her…

Link opened his mouth to respond.

"_Sssh, no. Save it, sky child. Do not utter it until we are together again. You come and see me…"_

"Mmm," Link murmured as he shook his head.

"_I will be waiting."_

"Snap out of it!"

"Ah! What!" Link cried, jumping up. He gaped blankly at the infinite blue of the sky, broken up only by the clouds below. The cloud cover was grey and dismal, and most certainly chucking sheets of rainwater onto the surface below. Link thought about Zelda, hoping that she was keeping dry. He knew how torrential that surface rain could be.

"Either that or you and Crimson need to get a room," Pipit said in his friend's ear. Plucked from his thoughts, Link looked over his shoulder. His eyes were blurry with sleepiness.

"What're you talking about?" he asked, making a face.

"Quit doing that to your bird," Pipit said, picking at his thumbnail.

"I…what? I wasn't—"

"The hell you weren't," Pipit said. "Must be one hell of a dream you were having. Like I told you in the restaurant in Superna: you need to get laid." With a sigh, Link rolled his eyes. "I'm serious. You won't have dreams like that if you do. Your subconscious is trying to tell you something: it's desperate."

"I'm not desperate for anything," Link insisted.

"Whatever."

"Feel like a bit of sky diving, Pip?" Link asked, annoyance splaying in his eyes.

"That would just be mean. You know Hematite's off serenading Zelda's bird."

"Hm, how appropriate," Link grumbled, staring ahead.

"Yeah," Pipit said dryly. "No wonder he didn't come when I whistled for him. He's probably gettin' some as we speak. At least somebody has the right idea." Link rolled his eyes again.

"Uh-huh."

"Who were you dreaming about?" Pipit asked, peeking over Link's shoulder. Link looked up, his sandy hair whipping about in the wind.

"Midna," he said.

"Oh, well in that case, carry on," Pipit said, crossing his arms. "It might freak your bird out a little, though."

"Pipit, just stop, okay?"

"What? Go ahead and do your thing. I won't look. Unlike _some_ people." Link's heart dropped for a moment.

"…What?" he asked slowly, staring over Crimson's head.

"Dude, if you wanted some pointers, all you had to do was ask," Pipit said. Link tightened up.

"Pipit! Why didn't you tell me that you knew I was there?"

"Um, awkwarrrrrrd," Pipit said.

"Awkward," Link repeated austerely. "Nothing is ever awkward with you. You don't care about anything!"

"Not for me. For the girl." Pipit shrugged.

"Oh, well, thank you, Pipit, for putting others first."

"Hey, was I any good to watch?" Pipit asked with a grin. Link gave a low groan.

"No. You put on a terrible show, Pipit. I want my rupees back." Link glared in the Twilight soldier's direction.

"Hm, yeah right," Pipit snapped. "I bet you scampered to your room and jerked off right aw—"

But before Pipit could finish his sentence he found himself dangling head first from Crimson, secured only by Link's grip on the front of his tunic. Shouting, he grabbed Link's arm.

"You did! That's why you're so mad!" He slipped down several inches, kicking his feet in the air. The jostle didn't break Link's livid glower.

"Unless your name is Midna, you deserve none of the credit," Link said, still staring ahead.

"All right! Okay! I'm sorry!" Pipit yelled. The soldier in black turned a curious eye to the two friends. He might have even smiled.

"Sorry, I was dazing," Link said. "I don't think I heard you."

"You can't kill me! There's a witness!" Pipit took a second to point him out. "That's murder, man! You wanna rot in jail forever?"

"I'm considering it."

"I said I'm sorry! What else can I—"

And with that, Pipit was hoisted into his previous position behind Link. After tossing his friend in place, Link bit his tongue. His friend slouched against him, breathing with long gasps.

"You think it was bad for you?" Pipit asked with a wheeze. "Do you know how long I had to hold out because you were in the room?"

"Well, I'm so sorry, Pipit!" Link called out as he threw his hands up.

"Yeah, well, see that it doesn't happen again," Pipit said, adjusting his hat and collar. "Good thing these knight's caps plaster themselves to your head." He rubbed his face. "Since when did you become a voyeur, man?" Link growled.

"Pip, you don't ever learn, do you?"

"I don't think you're a voyeur… Just in need." Link turned to face him.

"That's enough, Pipit," he warned.

"What? I don't blame you or anything. If Midna was my girlfriend, I'd be horny as hell all the time, too."

"I'm not…" Link took a breath. "…like that all the time."

"The way you thrash and talk and carry on in your sleep suggests otherwise."

"I do _not_," Link said.

"You just did," Pipit retorted. Link faced forward.

"Well, sorry you had to witness that, then," he said with plenty of sarcasm.

"And you weren't dreaming of Midna," Pipit pointed out.

"Why do you say that?"

"You were practically moaning his name," Pipit said quietly. "Actually, you did once." Link's gaze lowered.

"Thanks for letting me know, Pipit…"

"S'okay. I get it," Pipit said. "I used to dream of Calwren all the time, too. Like, intense, hardcore porn dreams."

"What?"

"Oh, yeah," Pipit said with a nod, "every night. For years."

"That's…horrible, Pipit," Link mumbled.

"Yup. The only thing that got my mind off of it was girls. Or _women_." Link gave him a leery glance.

"What age are we talking about here, Pip?"

"Thirteen, fourteen. It went beyond that, of course—"

"Thirteen?" Link asked, twisting around. Pipit shrugged.

"Sure. After everything that had already happened with Calwren, it wasn't much of a leap to move on to females."

"Yeah, but…thirteen?" Link asked in disbelief. "I knew you were bad, but not that bad."

"Hey, watch it," Pipit said. "We can't all be as pure as virgin snow."

"Oh, g—" Link scoffed. "Right."

"You're the horniest virgin I've ever seen. We need to do something about this." Link fought another urge to sacrifice Pipit to the clouds. "Hey, what about your servant?" Pipit's eyes lit up as Link froze.

"Huh?"

"You know, your servant. That woman in your sword."

"Fi?" Link asked, blinking.

"Yeah. You heard her story. Well, sixty-seven percent of it, according to her." Pipit's brow bounced up. "She was giving it up to that other Link, like…three-thousand years ago. Sounds like she's as horny as you. I bet she's ready for some by now."

"Pipit," Link muttered, "she never said she was sleeping with anyone."

"Pssh, come on, you know it's coming in the next installment," Pipit said. "Dude, she's your servant. She calls you 'Master'." He leaned in. "That's fantasy-worthy."

"It's not right, Pip," Link told him. "I really don't think that's what the Goddess had in mind…"

"Haven't you thought about it?" Pipit asked. Link paused.

"Let's not get into _that_ again."

"So you have," Pipit said. "Good to know. Hey, Effie!"

"Pipit!" Link whispered. "Don't. And stop calling her by stupid names."

"What? She has no freakin' emotions. Who cares?"

"I care!" Link exclaimed. "She deserves respect. She's still a person—"

"Who doesn't _feel_," Pipit said, cocking his head. "She's the perfect candidate for sexual favors." Link gaped at him. "Yo, Effie!"

"Her name is _Fi_."

"Fine," Pipit grumbled. "Hey, Fi!" He watched Link's brown bag light up.

"Do you require my assistance, Master Link?" Fi asked.

"Ha, you bet he does," Pipit said to Link's hip.

"Pipit!" Link put his hand up. "Fi, ignore him. I don't need anything."

"Very well, Master," Fi chimed.

"Ooh, that's so kinky," Pipit said, hugging himself. "She'll do anything you ask. Can you lend her out?" Link grabbed his forehead and sighed.

"Am I still dreaming?" he asked, looking Pipit in the eye. "Because I must be dreaming. There's something extremely wrong about waking up to this much perversion." Pipit curled his lip and shrugged.

"I'm just trying to help," he said, watching Link sweep his thick hair away from his eyes.

"I know. That's the frightening part." Link looked away. He flinched when he felt Pipit grab his shoulders for a 'helpful' massage.

"You need to loosen up, man," Pipit suggested. "Tense as hell."

"Demonic dreams will do that to you," Link said, trying to be mad. His resolve started to slip as Pipit rubbed his anger away. There was no doubt about it – Pipit gave good shoulder massages. Rocking under his hands, Link shut his eyes.

"Want me to nibble your ear, too?" Pipit asked.

"Shut up," Link said, shaking him off.

"Does Midna know you're a shoulder rub whore?"

"Haven't told her yet."

"Does Effie know?" Pipit asked. "I bet she'll do it for you, plus more."

"That would be weird, Pip."

"She's your servant. That's what servants are for."

"Are you my servant?" Link asked. "Is that why you're doing that?"

"No way. I'm just your buddy who wants you to loosen up. After Twilight, it's Cyainus, and then our trip is over."

"Because it's been so much fun," Link murmured.

"It _has_ been kind of fun," Pipit said. "How often do we get to have extended guy time?"

"Is the unintentional voyeurism and a demon kidnapping you and sick dreams included in that?"

"I guess."

They sat for a short time.

"I need to ask you something, Pip."

"Go ahead."

"Years ago, when you were…seeing Calwren," Link began, "how did you feel about him?"

"Feel about him? I hated his effing guts. I still do."

"Well, besides that…" Link hesitated. "Did you feel anything else?"

"Why are you asking?" Pipit's forehead wrinkled.

"Just curious," Link said tiredly.

"If that was all I felt, I never woulda gone back."

"So what exactly…" Link looked over his shoulder.

"Well, if you must know," Pipit said, "even though I hated him, I felt like I needed him."

"Did you like him at all?" Link asked, feeling odd for saying it.

"Like him?" Pipit didn't say anything right away. "All I can tell you is that I was afraid of him for what he could do to me and my mom, but I respected him for who he was. In a way, what was happening was…" He stopped to think. "…was my own." He shrugged. "Like I was special, or receiving special treatment."

"You did?" Link glanced around.

"Yeah. It distracted me from my problems…from insecurities. The insecurities that kids tend to have, I guess. I looked forward to seeing him most of the time. Plus it felt _really_ good to…" He swallowed.

"It's okay, Pip, I get it," Link said.

"No one else found me important enough to focus on me like that."

"Awe, Pipit," Link said somberly. He turned his eyes to the mist-shrouded island in the distance. The discussion had been so engrossing that he hadn't noticed its approach.

"Come about!" the soldier called to them. "We'll be landing in five minutes!"

"Soldiers talk funny," Pipit said.

Willing away any residual grogginess, Link studied the island. On the western half he saw a vast amber plain, an enormous, dense forest, and a long mountain range. Lakes and rivers dotted the landscape, shimmering like mirrors. Homes were sparsely placed about, becoming more concentrated toward the residential portion of the island.

"So this is Twilight," Link said to himself.

Opposite the wilderness was a huge city, glowing with torchlight even though it was midday. It was not as large as the city of Superna, but it was large, nonetheless. Emanating energy, it dwarfed every surrounding town and village. It wasn't even night but the place looked amazing. Link immediately understood every endearing thing that Midna had ever told him about her home. It didn't appear to be the dreary, depressing wasteland that Link had always pictured it would be.

"Wow," he said as they reached the soldier.

"That's what I'm hoping to say tonight," Pipit said with a little grin. "I've heard things about the bars here. _Good_ things. I've heard even better things about the women. Think I'll find someone who looks like Midna?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Pip. I don't think anyone looks like Midna except for Midna."

"Mm, true that," Pipit replied. "Maybe I can find a sort-of-look-alike."

"Good luck," Link said.

In no time, the landing area near the army base was rising up to meet them. Descending through the cool layer of mist that blanketed the island, Link watched as the sunlight faded. He understood why Twilight was so dark, and why its inhabitants were so pale.

And why demons found it a refuge…

The two loftwings hadn't yet landed when Link and Pipit caught the eye of two passersby.

"Look at those two cute brunettes," Pipit said with a hungry look. "See them?" Crimson's giant wings flapped a few more times before flattening against his sides. He dropped carefully to his belly. Link eyed the tall buildings encircling them as his feet touched the lush grass. The place smelled of flowers – similar to Midna, but not nearly as good.

"I see them," Link said trying not to sound as disinterested as he felt.

"I think I found our dates for tonight."

…

Link's meeting with General Ani was uneventful, routine and predictable – other than the fact that the general turned out to be a woman. As Link talked privately with the tall, thin, grey-haired lady with sharp green eyes, he smirked, amused by the irony of the situation; only Midna's home state would put a woman at the head of its entire army.

Link suppressed a yawn as he answered the same old questions: what did you see in the demon realm? Who did you meet? What did they tell you?

Etcetera, etcetera, blah, blah, blah…

Link's eyelids felt heavy again. Maybe it was the vegetable pasta they'd given him while he waited – for what seemed like forever – for General Ani to summon him. On the bright side, he had the opportunity to watch Pipit stare off into space for at least an hour. Link would have addressed his friend's preoccupation with the cobwebs in the far corner had it not been for the other people in the room. Instead, Link counted the number of times he was able to snatch Pipit's hat off of his head. He only apologized after the tenth time when Pipit seemed to be getting genuinely annoyed. Link then proceeded to steal it another three times, chuckling partially at the ease of it, but more so at Pipit's whininess.

In the general's office, sleep tried to have its way with him, but he beat it back. He could rest later. He did need to make up for his lack of sleep, though. Any sleep he had managed to get lately was marred by disturbing dreams. It wasn't proving to be very refreshing. Quite the opposite, really.

Link's mouth was moving but his mind was absent. All he saw was the demon's face; all he heard were his haughty words. The vibrant picture of the previous night's dream just wouldn't relent. He could still see the demon's house, his bedroom, his silky bed, the metal around his own wrists, and his confusing feelings.

"This companion of Ghirahim's," the general said. One of Link's eyes twitched at the name. "Azrael, I believe he is called…"

Link had heard it all before. Bored, the woman's voice diminished to a drone. He kept eye contact and continued to nod, but his thoughts were somewhere else.

Why had the demon interrogated him in his dream? Why was he asking about Zelda? Why couldn't he simply read Link's mind like he normally would? The demon had a talent for mind-probing. With the necessary physical interaction, Link was powerless to stop him. What was it about the dream…?

Worst of all, why did the demon have to keep teasing him with the same thing? How many times was this man going to get him worked up only to deny him what any normal person was entitled to after being manipulated like that?

_Why do I even care?_ Link wondered.

"Twilight has led the way down to the surface," the general said proudly. "Dozens more soldiers and knights, some from other states, are following every day. The construction of a large fortification has begun…"

Perhaps the demon thought that Link didn't deserve it; but rather that he deserved only a taste of his talents; just enough for Link to be left anguished and desperate; the same sort of desperate that Pipit had described earlier. The idea was a little bit maddening.

Link pulled on his shirt collar and cleared his throat.

The details of Fi's story seeped in, adding to his already hefty collection of opinions about the demon. The way she spoke of him in that musical voice was…odd. He didn't sound like an evil overlord at all. What happened to him between the end of the war and the present time to bring about such a change?

"The demon realm is home to several impressive breeds of creatures called horses," Ani explained. "The surface, as I am told, holds a race of desert dwellers who are known for herding this same type of animal…"

_No wonder he seems strangely passionate about Fi. I wonder if she slept with him._ Link pressed his fingers together thoughtfully. _I hope not. Sounds like she made out with him, but even _I_—_

"You've been most helpful, Sir Link," the general said. Link's gaze moved back to her. "Thank you for your time, and for coming all the way from Skyloft.

_Not like I had a choice._

"You're very welcome," Link said, responding to her cue by standing and giving a small bow. His hand brushed the top of his head, finding nothing where his green knight's cap would have been. Pleased with his urbanity, the general offered an approving smile.

Link found his friend in the waiting area outside of the general's office. He was still sitting, daydreaming away. Looking through a nearby window, Link noticed that the day had nearly turned to night. It must have been just about dinnertime.

"Well, I'd say 'how typical' about us having to wait for so long," Link began, "but I'd seriously expect some enraged woman to spring out of the woodwork and smack me." The smile that he had aimed toward Pipit slowly shrunk to nothing when he didn't even acknowledge the playfully sexist remark. "Pip?"

"Huh?" Pipit almost yelped.

"You ready to go?" Link asked.

"Sure… Where're we going?" Link gave him an analytical look.

"They're putting us up for the night," he said distantly, thinking about something different. "Cyainus is forty minutes away, and it's already getting too late to fly."

"Okay," Pipit said, finally looking at him.

"Pipit, _what_ is wrong?" Standing over him, Link put his hands on his hips. "Why are you acting all quiet and weird? You were fine on the flight over here. Not feeling well? Is something wrong?"

"What do you mean?" Pipit asked, sounding as though even he didn't believe the sincerity of his question. He looked away and sighed, lacing his fingers on top of his head. "Okay. I'm just distracted."

"About what?"

"I dunno… I'm just thinking about Karane…"

"Yeah?" Link's inquisitive expression stayed put.

"Just got a lot on my mind," Pipit said.

"Trying to decide how to break the news to Karane when we get back?" Link asked, bringing his eyes up to Pipit as he stood up.

"Among other things."

"Well, I know just what you need," Link said as they walked down a dark hallway toward the exit. "A night out. I asked this guy about good places to go in the area. You probably don't remember because you were so in the zone that you were practically drooling—"

"Geez, can't a guy think at all?" Pipit complained.

"You're not usually like that, Pip." The pair stepped outside. The rhythmic chirping of crickets dominated the entire area. They looked up, viewing the stars through the mist. They started making their way across an open field. "Anyway, I have directions to our hotel. It's not gonna be as nice as the Crown Plaza, but oh well. It's actually right on the outskirts of Twilight Knight Academy."

"Ooh, it's the acclaimed _TKA_," Pipit said.

"It is. It's what you've been waiting for."

"Yeah…" Pipit scratched his head.

"Sheesh, tone down the enthusiasm, Pipit."

"I'm celebrating on the inside," Pipit said.

"Well, I know what I'm gonna do when we get to the restaurant," Link said, grinning.

"Follow my lead to the bar?" Pipit asked.

"Nope. This place is like a big version of the Lumpy Pumpkin. And what's the Lumpy Pumpkin always good for?"

"Getting drunk, dancing with a hot chick and then getting used by said hot chick?"

"Besides that…" Link said. "What spreads around the Lumpy Pumpkin like wildfire?"

"Mononucleosis?"

Link sighed. "No, Pip. Gossip. Rumors. People's business."

"Trying to get the inside scoop on Midna before you decide if she's the one or not?"

"I need no confirmation," Link replied. "Actually, I plan on asking as many people as I can if they know anyone by the names of Kiri and Arn."

"Ah," Pipit said, snapping his fingers. "We're going on a man hunt."

"Right."

"Mom and dad hunts are better than being 'pressed into service' by Demon Lord Grima for the evening…"

…..

The stroll from the army base to the college campus was surprisingly pleasant. The air felt different here. Link figured it was the mist. Maybe that was what gave Midna's skin that healthy sheen.

Quite a few students were out on this cool Saturday evening, walking from one building to another, or leaving campus altogether. Coincidentally, many students were wearing the same long, dark, hooded cloak with the helter-skelter design down the back that Midna would wear around Skyloft before she had adjusted to the sun. The sight brought him back, and got him thinking.

Down several walkways lined with towering lamps and past a group of stone academic buildings, they at last neared the residential area of the campus. On either side of them, long three-story buildings formed quadrangles around large, open curtilages. Admiring the fine landscaping, Link wished that Skyloft's dormitory setup was like this. It felt cozier; better than repetitive, perfectly parallel rows of buildings. It was like General Sheik had designed the architecture back home.

Several more minutes of walking brought them all the way across campus and onto a path which led to an adjacent village. Their hotel would be located there.

"Isn't this place neat?" Link asked as they pushed through the darkness. The firelight of the village was quite inviting.

"Mmm," Pipit agreed.

"I wonder which building Midna lived in?"

"Wanna go creep around her old dorm?" Pipit asked.

"Of course not."

"Might be fun, though."

The two friends passed by a pond, alight with fireflies and occupied by some very large frogs, by the sounds of it. Link purposely turned his eyes down as they slipped past a couple fervently making out under a willow tree by the water's edge.

"Take a lesson," Pipit whispered.

After leaving behind a statue of the Goddess and skittering down a steep hill, the hotel showed itself. With five floors and no castle motif, it was obvious that their accommodations had been downgraded.

"This place is dinky," Pipit said.

"Oh, who cares?" Link asked as they entered the covered walkway along the side of the building. "Let's just get around to the front. The inside always looks better."

Just as Link suggested, the inside was much more impressive than the outside. Polished floors, vases full of roses and fancy furniture greeted them as soon as they entered the lobby. The pretty, pale young attendant behind the front desk handed the two friends their keys, courtesy of the Twili army, as she told them.

"Gotta love that swimming pool smell," Pipit noted as they crossed the room toward their target: the stairwell.

"Wanna go for a dip?" Link asked, tossing the brass key over his shoulder from behind before catching it.

"Actually, I wouldn't mind just vegging out in our room," Pipit grumbled.

"What?" Link asked, not believing what he was hearing. "You? Want to veg out on Saturday? In a new town? With that huge bag of rupees that we still have from yesterday? No way."

"Yes way," Pipit said uncaringly. They started ascending the stairs in the utterly non-fancy stairwell.

"Now I _know_ something's wrong," Link said. "You wanted to go out before."

"I'm fine."

Room twenty-five on the second floor was easy to find. Standing in front of the wooden door, Link and Pipit nabbed the attention of a young couple down the hall. Link inserted the key, twisted and pushed. Then, he waited, expecting Pipit to sweep him off of his feet and over the threshold, all in the honorable name of the shock factor. As Link looked at the two people a few doors down, Pipit lumbered past him and into the room. Link followed, sort of disappointed that he didn't do it; it would've made for a good laugh afterward. The door shut with a heavy slam.

Link halted mid-step as he scanned the room. It was on the small side, provided no balcony, had a tiny bathroom, minimal décor, and – worst of all – one bed. And it was small. Pipit didn't hesitate to face-plant right onto it. All stretched out, he took up the entire mattress.

"Is this supposed to be a joke?" Link asked, staring at the double bed.

"Looks like we're sharing a bed tonight," Pipit said with his face buried in the comforter. Link shook his head.

"Why would they give us a room with one bed?" he asked.

"Maybe General Pajaro _spread the word_," Pipit said, his voice muffled.

"Doesn't make sense."

"What?" Pipit asked, looking at Link. "I'm a good bedmate. Just ask Karane. I only coerced her into sex twice last time."

"Uh-huh."

"Man, if it's that big of a deal, I'll sleep on the floor," Pipit said. "I really don't give a crap."

"No, you can have the bed, Pip. I'll take the floor."

"No," Pipit urged him. "You take it." Link took a huge, frustrated breath.

"Now you're making me feel bad."

"It's settled then," Pipit said, sitting up. "We share, and you can use my ass as a pillow."

"Deal," Link said, "as long as you go to The Astrid with me tonight."

"Fine, fine," Pipit said. He fished the fat brown bag out of his pants pocket. It made a satisfying chink as he threw it from one hand to the other. He chuckled. "This trip's been a real gravy train, eh?"

"Let's go take advantage of it," Link said, yanking Pipit to his feet.

…

Dim lighting, a huge crowd, loud music, a lively atmosphere – this place certainly was along the same lines as the Lumpy Pumpkin. The only difference, as far as Link could tell, was the pumpkin-free menu.

He ambled along, striding through a sea of knight's and soldier's uniforms. But, just like at home, casual clothing still dominated the building.

Booths ran along the walls. Round tables filled the enormous dining area. Four separate bars, even bigger than any in Skyloft, stretched along every wall. Amazingly, most stools were filled, as were the booths and tables. Even the dance floor in the middle of everything was beginning to fill up.

Most noticeable of all were the stares from the ladies – they were cutting, almost fanatical. In groups, in pairs and by themselves, the females – and some males – ogled, fascinated by the stranger in the unique green tunic. The way that some of them pointed and whispered suggested that they knew who he was.

Feeling almost like he'd reached celebrity status, Link laughed to himself. Midna _had_ said that he, being the winner of the first Wing Ceremony as well as number one in the sparring ring, was well-known around her school. He didn't realize just how well-known until tonight. It was going to be easy to strike up conversations with these Twili. That was fine by him. It seemed as though nothing had been simple lately, and he was due.

How much easier would it have been to attract the interest of onlookers if he'd had the help of his charismatic friend? Link had a feeling that he might not find out.

Through the animated crowd he could see Pipit. He was seated in the center of the bar beside the main entrance, slouched over a very large mug. Every time Link looked at him he had a different woman next to him. Link scoffed. Pipit didn't even need to be up and about for the ladies to flock to him. Completely inanimate, he was a centripetal force.

It was strange to see him like that, though. The rapid turnover of women indicated that Pipit wasn't giving any of them a reason to stay. His disinterest was profoundly uncharacteristic. By all rights, Pipit could have easily been halfway back to the hotel by now with _at least_ one woman on his arm.

As another girl got up from the bar and left, Link shook his head. How long had Pipit been sitting there? Twenty minutes? Forty? However long it had been, it was ample time for Pipit to order quite a few drinks. Link knew he was going to be Pipit's crutch on the way back to the room.

Link could only see the back of his friend's head. The length of his long knight's cap lay unmoving on his back. What was bothering him? What was really on his mind? What was he saying, or not saying, to drive people away?

Music rose up anew. Link picked out the harmonization of three violins, muddled by several other instruments. He shut his eyes, thinking about his own violin—

"Excuse me?" A gentle voice sliced straight through Link's worry, somehow overtopping the loud music. He turned around and came face-to-face with a light-skinned young woman dressed in a grey tunic, complete with hat and swirling red design. Her tawny eyes were large and inquisitive.

"Yes?" Link asked, watching her finger curl around a brown strand of hair.

"Are you, um…" She gestured toward his clothes. "The one from Skyloft who won the Wing Ceremony?"

"Oh, yeah, I am." He met her gaze, reckoning he would sound arrogant if he didn't ask the question. "How did you know?"

"No one else wears a tunic that shade of green," she replied, her eyes dropping to study him. Link didn't move. "That color is exclusive to this year's Skyloftian winner." The girl gave a subtle smirk as one brow came up. Link quickly looked her over. His curious eyes did not go unnoticed.

This girl was attractive but slightly awkward. Link had an inkling that she was forsaking her own shy personality to win him over.

"Did you wanna sit down somewhere?" he asked, figuring the girl deserved his full attention for her efforts.

"Definitely," she said, shuffling through a wall of people. Link followed her.

They promptly arrived at the same stretch of bar that Pipit was occupying. A dozen seats away, Pipit didn't see them. Sitting to the girl's right, Link leaned over and caught a glimpse of him, wallowing in rather boisterous solitude.

"I've never spoken with the winner of a Wing Ceremony before." Link looked to his left. The petite young lady was grinning from ear to ear. "Let alone the champion of the very first ceremony of the year."

"Oh, yeah," Link said with a nod.

"Skyloft's tradition with the Ceremony of the Goddess and the hero is an interesting one. Makes me wish Twilight would have its own yearly competition."

"Skyloft's ceremonies wouldn't be so novel, then," Link remarked. "Especially the first big one."

"Wouldn't want to steal your thunder," the girl said with a flirtatious smile.

"I suppose not," Link replied.

"What can I get for you two?" the heavyset, dark-haired man behind the bar asked.

"A martini, please," the girl answered, quickly returning her eyes to Link. "Actually, one for each of us."

"Well…" Link looked at the bartender. "My friend has my money, and—"

"My treat," the girl said happily. "Your greenest olive for my new friend, please," she said to the bartender.

"Coming right up, the man said, turning around to mix their cocktails.

"You don't have to do that," Link said, making a sour face as he watched.

"My pleasure." In less than a minute, two martini glasses were placed in front of them. As the girl handed the rupees to the bartender, Link stole another look at Pipit. He hadn't moved an inch.

"To Skyloft's undefeated," the girl said, raising her glass. Smiling, Link picked up his own.

"Cheers," he said. Their glasses met with a clink. He took a long sip. A gush of warmth filled his throat. He tried not to cough.

"So," the girl began, plucking the olive out of her drink. Looking Link in the eye, she ran her tongue around its smooth surface. He blinked a few times. "How does it feel to be the blue-eyed beast?"

"Uh…" Link took another sip, wincing and imagining Pipit's chuckles. "I can't really tell you. But I _can_ tell you how it feels to be a blue-eyed…regular person." The two stared vacantly at one another. "I'm not a…beast."

"You are in the sparring ring, as well as in the air, am I right?"

"I dunno. Maybe." He shrugged.

"A champion in humility, too," she said, sucking on her olive some more.

"What's your name?" Link asked, twirling his glass.

"Mora," she said, almost finishing her drink. Link nodded.

"Mora…"

"Kind of sad that I know so much about you, but you've never heard of me."

"Well…" Link wasn't sure what to say.

"It's okay. I'm not someone special like you."

"Well, I wouldn't say _that_, I mean…" he mumbled.

"I'm just a regular second-year knight student," she said, batting her eyes nonchalantly. "I hardly talk to anyone, so hardly anyone knows me."

"I don't talk to many people either," Link admitted. "I don't have that many close friends, really."

"You?" Mora seemed genuinely shocked.

"It's true. I have a lot of acquaintances…" He stopped, realizing that she wanted more of an explanation than that. "Well, I'm pretty close with some of the people who live in my building at home. This girl named Zelda has always been my best friend, along with Pipit. And then there's Fledge, this guy who's even less talkative than I am. He's really good at making stuff."

"One of your best friends is a girl?" she asked.

"Yeah. And then there's this kid Chaise who's part of the band that I'm a part of—"

"Oh, yes, _and_ you're an incredible musician," she said, polishing off her drink.

"Yeah, I've been doing it for a long time, though. Since I was five."

"Wow," Mora said. She signaled for a second martini.

"Other than that, I have…" He paused. "Um, a friend named Fi." He looked away.

"Fi?" she asked. "That's a weird name. Who is _she_?"

"Just this lady from Skyloft," Link said, laughing in his head about the strangeness of what he was saying.

"A lady? Is she older or younger than you?"

"_Older_," he said with emphasis. "Much older."

"Okay," Mora said, starting on her second glass.

"And then there's Midna, who—"

"Midna?" She stopped mid-sip.

"Um, yeah…"

The girl scoffed into her drink. "She comes from Twilight?"

"Yeah, that's her."

"Oh, _that_ figures." Her interest immediately seemed to drop.

"Why, what's…?" Link looked at her curiously. "You know her?"

"Who doesn't know Miss Perfect?" she asked, rolling her eyes. Link bit back a grin.

"Perfect?" A smirk broke through. "Gorgeous doesn't mean perfect…"

Mora's eyes narrowed. "Maybe not, but 'great student', 'fabulous archer' and 'man magnet' combined with 'beautiful' make for quite the potent combination, wouldn't you say?"

"What do you know about her other than that?" Link asked.

"Not much, other than that she just moved to Skyloft."

"Guessing you're not terribly upset about that," Link said.

"Can't say I am," she said between sips.

"Did she ever say anything bad to you?"

"No," Mora said, wondering why Link's attention was so diverted. "Why do you keep looking over there?" Link turned back.

"Oh, my friend is down there. I think something's bothering him." Mora followed his gaze.

"That knight in the yellow?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"I was wondering why he was so quiet."

"You talked to him?" Link asked.

"I _tried_ to," she said with a giggle. "I could tell he wasn't from around here by his tunic. I was curious, so I sat next to him. He's _cute_." Link snorted into his glass. "His accent is like yours. I kind of suspected you knew him before you told me."

"That's pretty observant."

"It's not a Skyloftian accent, though. It's something else…"

"Well, we come from Azuria," Link said.

"Azuria…really? I would've guessed Superna."

"Why?"

"Everyone comes from Superna," Mora said. "Hm. Azuria of all places. Who woulda thought that the Goddess's hero would come from 'farmville'." Link 's mouthful almost went down the wrong pipe.

"The…what?"

"Huh?" Mora blinked extremely slowly. Her eyes almost rolled. Link suddenly realized that this girl had probably consumed more than just those two martinis. He quickly decided that she hadn't stepped out of her comfort zone to speak to him; she had merely expanded her zone by means of alcohol.

"The Goddess's _what_?" he asked.

He felt a heavy glare coming from somewhere. He looked from one stool to the next, but found only friendly faces, all of which were not looking back at him.

Except for one young man who was eight seats down. A black knight's cap sat on top of a tuft of reddish-blond hair that seemed even more untamable than Pipit's. When Link's gaze came to him, he turned his dark eyes down to his mostly full mug, obviously in no hurry to avoid eye contact.

"Oh." Mora indulged in a silly laugh. "Just rumors."

"Rumors…" Link repeated, not yet ready to take his eyes off of the unhappy stranger. He examined him for a few more seconds before refocusing on Mora.

Her eyes were reddening and she was looking more drained by the minute. He hadn't come here to watch women get drunk; he had come for answers.

"Do you happen to know two people by the names of Kiri and Arn?" he asked, knowing he was running out of time with her.

"Kiri?" She rubbed her forehead.

"Yes, and Arn," he said, hoping to glean even a snippet of information from her. He sighed, wishing he had asked earlier.

"Hm."

She dazed for so long that Link wondered whether she was going to respond or not.

"No, I don't think so," she said at last. Link sighed again.

_Who else should I ask? _he asked himself.

"_You could always ask me, sky child."_

Link gasped, staring blankly behind the bar at the rows of glass bottles. They glistened in the dim, flickering light.

"Oh, wait," Mora said, trying to straighten up. "I think I remember, um…"

"Yeah?" Link asked, still taken aback by the demon's sudden intrusion.

"My best friend, Marla—"

"Does every girl's name in Twilight begin with an 'M' and end with an 'A', or something?"

"A lot of them do," Mora said, oblivious to why he was questioning it. "But, Marla used to take music lessons when we were kids. She plays, um…" She tapped her fingers on the counter. Link's eyes widened.

"Yes?" he asked.

"The cello."

"Oh, yeah?" Link asked, his interest piqued.

"Or is it the viola?" Mora looked at the ceiling.

"There's a big difference between the cello and viola," Link pointed out, feeling ridiculous for trying to have this conversation.

"Sorry… I think that last drink just…" She shook her head and giggled.

"Yes, I can tell," Link said, studying what was left in his own glass. "So, your friend took music lessons."

"Oh, right. From fourth grade to…sometime in secondary school. She still plays, and she's really good. Her instructor was _really_ awesome…"

"Do you remember the instructor's name?" Link asked, attempting to move things along but wary of getting his hopes up.

"Well, when you said _Kiri_, I thought of Marla's teacher. I think that might've been the lady's name."

"How many years ago did you say your friend stopped taking lessons?"

"Oh, mighta been nine, maybe ten."

"Oh…" Link said quietly. "Is your friend here?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Mora said. "I mean, why do you care what my friend's old mandolin teacher's name was?"

"I'm looking for someone. So, is your friend here?"

"Oh, hm…yeah," she mumbled, twirling herself toward the crowd. "She's definitely out there _somewhere…"_

"Think you can find her for me?" Link leaned closer, using his big blue eyes to his advantage. Mora gawked at him.

"Suuure," she replied, sliding off of her stool. She gave him a tipsy smile. "I'll be back as soon as I find her."

Looking significantly plastered, Mora pushed into the mass of people.

"I'm never gonna see her again," Link murmured to himself. He took a quick look at Pipit; he hadn't moved. He set his sights on the ever increasing population in the restaurant. He left the bar, envisioning success and determined to obtain some worthwhile information.

Wandering around, Link found that while most people were friendly, no one seemed to know what he was talking about. Forthcoming meant nothing if no one had any knowledge.

Besides that, his green tunic had a way of derailing everyone's already hazy trains of thought. The subject was perpetually changed to Link's victory in the Wing Ceremony almost as fast as he could say, 'I'm looking for someone.' The attention was nice, but out of place.

An entire half-hour flew by by the time he had made his rounds and was walking back to the bar. Mora wasn't there. He looked at his feet, disappointed that he had most likely lost his only lead to a drunken stupor.

At least Pipit was still there. Link squinted in his direction. Yes, he certainly was there, and was surrounded by women, no less. His approach was cautious at first, but he sped up when he saw how upset Pipit was. Link dashed up to him, weaving between ladies of various sizes. All eyes turned to him as he took his place next to his friend.

Link looked down. Pipit face was in his hands.

"Can you guys just…" Link said, motioning for the girls to leave.

"What's up with your friend?" a tall knight asked. "He's really distraught about something." She took a sip of her beer.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out. So, if you don't mind—"

"Aren't you Link?" another girl asked, pouting her pink lips. She strutted her roly-poly frame over to him.

"Yeah," he answered without looking at her.

"The winner of the—"

"Yes! I am!" Link shouted. Everyone around him jumped, except for Pipit. "Please! I need to talk to my friend, here." He lowered his shoulders and took a breath.

"Okay, okay, geez," the girl said, meandering away with her chattering group of friends. Shaking his head, Link laid a hand on Pipit's shoulder.

"You okay, Pip?" He received no answer. "Pipit?" He shook him around a bit.

"Huh?" Pipit pulled at his face before dropping his hands. Link cocked his head, noting how red Pipit's eyes seemed.

"Are you crying about something, Pip?" Pipit rocked to the side and scoffed. Link grabbed him by the arm just in case.

"Cry…? I don't _cry _about stuff…" His words were breathy and slurred.

"What's really wrong, Pip? And don't tell me it's Karane, _or_ Zelda. 'Cause you just said it yourself: you don't cry about stuff. And stuff includes girls."

"I think there's something wrong with me," Pipit whined, ruffling his hair under his hat.

"You what? What do you mean?" Link flinched as Pipit snagged him by the sleeve and pulled him closer. Much nearer now, Link gaped into his friend's face.

"I can't stop thinking about him," Pipit whispered heavily. His eyes were fighting to close, and he could barely keep his head in one place. His grip on Link was stronger than he was aware of, almost dragging him into his lap. Link strained to look behind him, paranoid that someone might overhear.

"Who, Pip?" Link laid an arm on the bar.

"Him. _Him_," Pipit said a bit louder, looking into Link's eyes with urgency.

"Who is _him_?"

"Calwren," Pipit said.

"What?" Link asked. "Why?"

"I dunno." Still clutching Link's tunic, Pipit looked away. "Ever since last night, I just…"

"Well, good lords, Pip, look what happened," Link said, quietly controlled. "I'm not surprised—"

"It's worse than you think," Pipit said a little louder. Link looked around. "It's bad. It's reeeally _bad_."

"Uh," Link uttered as Pipit pulled him closer, "why don't we just go. We can talk about it where there aren't so many people."

"Oh, gods, I'm a terrible friend," Pipit whimpered.

"What? No you're not," Link said, trying to urge him to stand up. Link's ire for Ghirahim and his 'playful antics' was rekindled now that he was seeing the true result.

"I _am_... I bet you haven't even gotten to find out… _anything_ about your parents… What were their names again?"

"It's okay, Pip. What I found out was that I need to go elsewhere for information, and that's fine."

"Awe, man, I'm sorry the people here are so freakin' _useless_." Link looked around again.

"Pipit, quiet," he said. "Here…" Breaking free of Pipit's hand, Link crouched down and assumed a supportive position under his arm. Pipit had no choice but to stand. Thanks to Link, he didn't topple over. "Geez, Pip, how much did you drink?"

"I have no idea, man," Pipit slowly mumbled. "Why? Do I look a little squiffy?"

"I'd say so," Link said as he hauled Pipit away from the bar.

"A little sizzled? Or slewed? Slopped? Soused? Soaked? Sloshed?"

"Yes," Link said, amazed by Pipit's list of S-words.

"Sorry I'm so…drunk and disorderly," Pipit said, smiling apologetically in Link's face.

"It's all right, Pip," Link said with a grunt, trying to find his bearings beneath what felt like dead weight.

"Nah, I'm a worse friend than that." Link shook his head at Pipit's overly dramatic tone. Focused on the ground, he ignored the amused looks of bystanders.

"No, you're really not, Pipit."

"Seriously… I'm sorry about Zelda."

"You don't need to keep bringing that up," Link said, leading them out the door.

"I'm sorry I want her for myself…"

"It's fine, Pip."

"And wanna take her virginity and everything." Pipit let out a distressed sigh.

"Uumm," Link said as they cleared the foyer, "I think you've ingested too much truth serum tonight, Pip."

"It's really your job, right? I mean…you've been best friends with her, for what…? Like seven decades, or something?"

"Um…"

"You really oughta be the one to deflower her, man."

"Uh, thanks, Pip. I'll…do that." Link rolled his eyes. At a snail's pace, they began the walk back to the hotel.

"Oh, thanks, man…" Pipit nuzzled his face against the top of Link's head. "You're the _best_ best friend _ever_."

"Thanks."

"I love you, man," Pipit said, sounding as if he might burst into tears.

"…I love you too, Pip." The wobbly pair stepped into the mild night air.

"Hey, when we get back to the room—" Pipit tripped on a stone but was swiftly rescued by his friend. "There's something I've been wanting to do." Link shifted his eyes.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Like _really_ wanting to do," Pipit said.

"Uumm…"

"Holy crap, it'd be the best thing ever!" An amorous look took over his face as fear covered Link's.

"I don't even wanna ask," Link said.

"Well," Pipit started, "do you think you and I could—"

"Pipit!" Shocked and horrified, Link looked up at him. "Good goddesses, don't even say it!"

"What?" Pipit asked.

"Ever since I woke up from that dream, the day's just been…way too perverted…" Link cringed.

"Why, what'd you do that's perverted? Ha, good going." Pipit gave him a congratulatory nudge.

"No, that's not what I mean!"

"I just wanted to ask if you—"

"Oh, Hylia," Link groaned.

"If you wanted to play poker." Link's tense expression melted.

"Play poker?" he asked.

"Yeah. I saw this deck of cards on the bedside table before we left, and—"

"I thought you meant something worse," Link said with a hearty laugh.

"Worse?" Pipit asked, started to yawn. "Like what?" Link chuckled to himself.

"I thought you wanted to play go fish," he said with a relieved eye roll.

"Oh, yeah, that's clearly worse," Pipit said.

"Hey!"

An unfamiliar voice butted its way into Link and Pipit's conversation. Link looked behind him, spotting a man.

After toiling for a bit, Link managed to turn himself and his passenger around. What he saw was not just a man, but the light-haired knight who had been surreptitiously observing him at the bar. He stopped about fifteen feet away, blending almost seamlessly into the foggy darkness with his black tunic.

After facing him, Link looked up at Pipit; his mind seemed out of commission at the moment.

"Yes?" Link called.

"Link, correct?" the knight asked, taking a small step. He placed both hands behind his back.

"Oh no, it's a _fanboy_," Pipit said in a rattling whisper. "Don't worry, buddy, I got your back." He lifted his head. "Yep, Link, the one and only!" he stated loud and clear.

"Thanks, Pip," Link said with a sigh. A fleeting smile crossed the stranger's face.

"For someone insurmountable in the sparring ring…" The man slid closer. "You don't look like much."

Link looked the slightly taller and huskier man up and down for a moment, getting the feeling that he had not followed them outside to schmooze.

"Hey, man, looks can be deceiving," Pipit loudly proclaimed. "He'll kick your ass. He's a freakin' _beast_."

"Pipit…!" Link grumbled.

"Mm, I've heard," the knight hummed as he moved forward. "_Blue-eyed_, as well."

"Heh, the blue-eyed beast," Pipit said to Link. "See, he knows. Guess he's not _that_ much of a moron." Link just looked away and shook his head, contemplating the best way to remove Pipit from this potentially volatile situation. The stranger's odd smile was off-putting.

"What do you want?" Link asked.

"You," the man answered.

"See? I knew it," Pipit declared, wobbling slightly. "A rabid fanboy. He's not interested, pal." But the man simply shook his head.

"No. That's not what I mean."

Link's face twisted. "Then what _do_ you mean?" he asked.

"I'm challenging you," the man said, "to a sparring match."

"What? I don't even know who you are." Link looked around. "Right now?"

"As good a time as ever," the man said happily.

"What the hell time _is_ it, anyway?" Pipit asked.

"A knight defending his honor cares not for what the clock tells," the man said, still grinning.

"Oooh, that's deep," Pipit said with a chuckle, "did you just make that up?"

"Pipit, gods, shut up," Link whispered through gritted teeth.

"So, what do you say, Sir Link?" the knight asked, holding his hands up. Link glanced at Pipit before looking back at the stranger.

"I say no thanks," Link answered, starting to turn around.

"Better things to do, eh?" the man asked.

"A riveting game of poker," Pipit called. "Hey, you wanna join us?" He leaned toward Link's ear. "Bet I can clean this guy out."

"Not as tough as they say?" the knight asked, feigning concern. "You're not scared, are you?" Not bothering to stop, Link finally got him and Pipit pointed in the right direction. They started shuffling away.

"Since when does 'poker' translate to, 'We're off to have sex?'" the man asked flatly, sneering when Link's step momentarily faltered. Facing away, Link took a breath and looked up at the moon. Exhaling, he fixed his eyes on the path back to the hotel.

"Did you hear what he said?" Pipit asked, laughing. "What a derp-head. I'm not even in the _mood_." The two continued on their way.

"How's Midna?" the man asked, crossing his arms. Link came to a full stop.

"What?" he asked, turning his head.

"Midna," the man emphasized. "_How is she_?" Looking over his shoulder, Link finally got to see the haughty man in his full glory, thanks to the moonlight. Link faced away again.

"Pip, can you stand on your own?" he asked.

"Well, yeah, probably," Pipit sputtered. "If not I'll just crash to the ground and split my head open, no big deal or any—" Scooting out from under his friend's arm, Link headed straight for the stranger. "…thing," Pipit concluded.

Link planted his feet in front of the man. He looked him straight in the eye.

"Why do you ask?" Link's shoulders were rising and his fingers were flittering. The man's smile grew.

"Oh, no real reason," he calmly replied. "I was just wondering if the sun in Skyloft might've melted that _ice queen_ exterior." Link's eyebrows lifted.

"Ice queen?"

"I heard you guys were together," the man said, lifting his chin. "Thought perhaps you might've broken through the barrier by now."

"I what?"

"She's a stuck-up _bitch_," the knight burred, a newfound maliciousness in his voice.

"Oooh, you're gonna be sorry you said that," Pipit said from a distance.

"Too good for _anyone_," the man continued. Link pulled back in surprise. The man gave Link another once-over. Link nodded.

"Oh, I get it," he said, taking a step. "You just gave yourself away."

"Did I? Oh, silly me." The knight tipped his head, giving a sardonic shrug.

"This isn't about me at all," Link said. "It's about her."

"What gives you that idea?" The man marched into his face. Link felt his ears starting to burn.

"Where's the sparring hall?" Link practically growled.

"A two minute walk that way," the man said. Link stepped away, holding his hand out in invitation. "I thought you'd never ask." Winking, the man brushed past him, knocking into his shoulder.

The two barely noticed Pipit laid out in the dirt.

"The stars are prettyyyyy," he sang to himself. Link didn't even look at him.

"We're going to the sparring hall, Pipit," Link said. Pipit turned his gaze to the two knights as they left him behind.

"Brilliant," Pipit said with a pained mumble as he clambered to his feet. "Guy can call you a best friend-humping-coward, but the first mention of Midna and it's like _oooooooh noooo_ _you didn't_!" He waved his arms about before staggering forward. "Predictable. Cliché." He swept the dirt from his sleeves as he tried to catch up. "Cut into my poker time. I'll kick your ass, myself…"

...

_Special thanks to Zelda-Fanatic121 for the word 'deflower', a word she used in a PM months ago. I thought it was hilarious and I'm glad I got to use it._


	29. Wolves and Wildcats

Chapter 29

Wolves and Wildcats

This time, Link noticed none of the beauty that Twilight had to offer. In fact, the curious stares, muted murmurs and snooping footsteps of observers weren't enough to alter his dogged gaze by even a centimeter.

His objective: to reach the building at the top of the hill. The square silhouette looked down on the approaching group which was growing by the second. Every student in the path of the migrating horde was snapped up like a fish in a rip current. Link was aware of their presence, but couldn't have cared that they were there if he'd tried.

Only one thing mattered right now, and that was to put a pretentious, disrespectful man in his place. No one should be saying such hateful things about Midna. No one.

It reminded him of the demon.

Even Pipit's random and ridiculous commentary wasn't enough to disturb his resolve.

"Never a dull moment with him, know what I mean?" he heard Pipit say from several yards away. Even though Pipit was hopelessly drunk, Link could tell by his tone that he was talking to a woman. "It's not like he does it on purpose, either. He just sort of…attracts trouble." At that, Link blinked twice, but his squared expression remained as immovable as the moment he had accepted the stranger's challenge.

"The only way he'd…_lose_ this fight is if he's…as _wasted_ as I am!" Pipit said with a laugh, garnering several agreeing snickers from Link's accumulating audience.

Still, several Twili students, mostly ladies, couldn't help but voice their opinions on Link's contender.

"Vigil is one of TKA's best!" at least five girls said. Link heard the admiration in their words.

Vigil… A fitting name for someone like him. How appropriate it was for a man bent on dragging Midna's name through the dirt to be named for that solitary time of night when a person prays, hoping, searching, waiting for something…

Yes, this man most certainly reminded Link of the demon lord – someone who exuded gentility, yet underneath it all was a snake; a fraud interested only in his own personal gain, who would laugh and congratulate himself if others happened to be harmed in the process. A pleasurable side-effect.

Link gnashed his teeth, finding that the angrier he got, the clearer the image of the demon became in his head. He peered at the infuriating stranger to his right, his frustration mounting for more than one reason.

His face had that same smug look Ghirahim's always did. That half-smile that said, 'I'm superior to you'. Link rolled his eyes at the thought.

_Knights take an oath to honor and protect women_. _Doesn't anyone follow through with their vows anymore?_

Link's disapproval increased with each footfall. His fists hung tightly at his sides. He should have been in Skyloft right now, rummaging through Commander Eagus's weapon stash in the sparring hall. That's where Fi had suggested he go, anyway. Then he could finally return to the surface and get to work on the first part of his mission: retrieving the sword which Fi seemed to think that he needed.

Link bit his lip in thought. Fi was his Goddess-given guide. If she was instructing him to seek out a specific sword, even if he could find a comparable object in a much less cumbersome location, then he would listen.

Besides that, some time alone after all of this madness didn't sound half bad.

"He put me in the hospital, man," Pipit said, chuckling as though it were a joke. Link grimaced and sighed, hoping that Pipit wasn't planning on elaborating on that rather shameful story. Link was hard-pressed to entertain even a single thought about the Lumpy Pumpkin without picturing Pipit's discomposing little stunt, which Midna had seen, no less. Thank the Goddess she'd been outside during Link's subsequent attempt at revenge.

Never before had he disregarded his friend's dignity so readily, but never before had he been so drunk.

Thoughts of his rage-fueled dance with his best friend were followed by the unpleasant memory of sparring with him – no, not sparring, _fighting_ – during which they had nearly knocked each other senseless. And for what? The entire two day incident, starting with the wrestling match in Link's dorm two nights prior, had all been a dreadful misunderstanding. Link was on edge about Zelda. Pipit was being haunted by painful childhood memories, sort of like tonight. Link figured that people were probably still on the fence as to whether they should feel sorry for Pipit for what happened to him that night, or if they should just have a good laugh about it. And it was all because of Link. To him, the whole incident was well worth forgetting.

Link was grateful to have learned what Pipit's problem was, but at what cost? Part of him was afraid that, after all that had happened, their friendship hadn't benefitted, but had suffered a blow.

The knowledge was valuable, however, as was Pipit's experience, especially in light of what Link was dealing with. Perhaps in time the positive would outweigh the negative.

Link had already felt guilty for his poor judgment the night of the party, and even though he had apologized at home _and_ on the surface, the need to ask for forgiveness was starting to creep in again—

Just like tonight, Pipit had been hurting that day, and all his supposed best friend did was exacerbate the situation. The more Pipit shared, the worse Link felt. And today, Pipit had shared a lot.

"He gives a good lap dance…" Pipit said in a voice laced with drunken sarcasm. Link cringed. "But he gives an even _better_ concus…_concussion_… What's-his-face had better _watch out_!"

"Ugh, Pipit," Link mumbled, wishing that he could sew his friend's mouth shut.

In order to will the guilt away, Link rehashed the sparring hall scene in his head, thinking expressly about when Pipit had picked him up, thrown him against the wall and tossed him across the room.

The demon had done the same; not to mention he'd accused Link of every single sin imaginable. To the demon, Link carried so much guilt that his self-confidence was overblown. Maybe his overconfidence in the Faron Woods _had_ led to his capture by Ghirahim, but it wasn't like he was going to make the same mistake again…

Not only that, but he had apparently allowed the exceptionally good looks of a _demoness_ to lure him away from the girl who he was supposed to be with. He also wasn't worthy of a mother and a father's love. And deserving of the title, 'Sir'? Certainly not; his reasons for pursuing knighthood were not gallant, but selfish.

Link's tight fists stayed where they were as he walked and contemplated. He had started out a lost little boy in a big, overwhelming world. His circumstance was not his fault, though, nor did it automatically render him unfit to be a knight. One couldn't dedicate his or her life to achieving knighthood without harboring at least a _small_ amount of honor within themselves. Although, Groose was quite possibly the exception to that rule.

Link wasn't perfect. Not at all. The demon had been sure to stress that particular point. In fact, Ghirahim had gone above and beyond, emphasizing that Link's self-reliance was entirely stupid, and that he was doomed to fail without the aid of his enemy. Or ally, as the demon had tried to brand himself. Preposterous, really, that Link would need the demon in any way. Fi's role as his guide was a testament to that. The Goddess would not have appointed an incompetent fool to do her work, nor would she have given that fool someone as incredible as Fi as a personal assistant.

Speaking of Fi, Link would have much rather been lounging comfortably in his hotel room and listening to the rest of her story than tromping off to the sparring hall of a school that wasn't even his.

If he wasn't fuming he might have given some serious consideration to the notion of dropping everything and returning to the hotel. Still, this was about Midna. Listening to hurtful words about himself was one thing; to have the displeasure of hearing a man bash someone that special to him was something that he couldn't ignore.

Maybe it was because he and Midna were in a state of limbo and his frustration over her had already been brewing. Perhaps it was how he had been questioning her integrity in spite of what he wanted to believe. Maybe it was the fact that, no matter how much he denied it, some of what the demon had said about her made sense. Not just about Midna, but about himself—

About _them_; him and the demon, and what had developed in the demon realm.

"_Admit it,"_ Ghirahim had said, _"you like me."_

"What I'd _like_ is to watch you suffer and die in the worst way possible," Link whispered gutturally. A few feet away, his challenger gave him a quizzical look. Link expected a flippant retort from the demon, seeing as though he seemed to have set up camp in his mind recently.

"_You really ought to lend your ears to that little witch of yours, sky child. Listen carefully. Imbibe what she tells you. Who knows? There is a chance that your hatred for me may dissipate._"

And there it was…

"_Oh, I'm sure my hatred will just drift away on the next breeze_," _Link shot back._ _"Fi's a good storyteller, but she's not __that_ _good._"

"_Akin to the many lives that will be lost because of you, your animosity will be snuffed aborning. It has already begun to happen, and it will continue. I promise you."_

"_I don't believe you."_

"_Have you learned nothing from what she's already told you, human? Now more than ever you should recognize how very extraordinary our connection is. It is phenomenal, marvelous. In every way, unprecedented. Can you not feel it by now?_"

"_You forcing your weird powers onto me? Is that __unprecedented__?_" Link stomped along. "_I've been told that to be used by you is nothing out of the ordinary."_

"_Yes, but never before has a joining been so fabulous, sky child._" Link sensed the excitement in the demon's words; the words that only he could hear. "_It is special_."

"_It's not special to give in too easily when you're exhausted and depressed_," _Link countered._ "_And that's all it was._"

"_Every time, my dear human?"_

"_Yes, every time," Link replied._

"_Are you exhausted and depressed right now?_"

"_No…"_

"_Then why is your heartbeat escalating just as surely as your musical abilities are slipping away from you?"_

Link huffed indignantly. "_Because I'm angry, that's why."_

"_Anger has nothing to do with it, sky child. Your heart pounds for __me__. Blame it on the clashing of two silly egos all you like. The sound of my voice is driving you wild._"

Link's face turned even redder than it had all night. His fists tightened some more. Just when he was set to launch a slew of heated words at the demon, he felt an interference in his thoughts, as if a finger had been laid over his lips before he had the chance to speak.

"_You want to see me again…_" _the demon purred._

Link's eyes shifted. He was glad that no one around him had the ability to hear the war that was raging in his head.

"_Do you know what else, sky child?_"

With a blank mind, Link shook his head, muttering indistinctly. "_What?_"

"I _look forward…with immeasurable hunger and thirst…to seeing __you __again, too." _That very same finger grazed the innermost part of his brain, releasing a tiny, teasing burst of pleasure from deep within. With a low grunt and a jerk of his head, Link shook it off, feeling the demon's presence retreating.

"After you, champ," the blond stranger said, offering a loose smile.

Link felt his eyes clear. Before him was an open door, and past it lay a shiny hardwood floor; recently polished, apparently. Not even sparing a glance at his opponent, he stepped inside.

The sparring hall was empty for only a few seconds more. In no time, people began filing in, splitting up and gathering in little groups along the walls, placing elbows along windowsills. With a set jaw, Link watched absently as observers made themselves comfortable. Disallowing any more unwanted thoughts from chipping away at his absorption in the moment, his gaze floated from one student to the next. Keeping in mind what Lilith had told him not long ago, he briefly took note of who was within this sample of the Twilight population—

A whole lot of pale-skinned young men and women. With a critical eye, Link looked into their faces, receiving many dubious stares in return. While any sky state could shelter a demon fleeing from the demon realm, it made perfect sense that most found refuge in the darkness of Twilight.

Looking around, however, Link could tell that picking the demons out from the humans, and vice versa, was not going to be easy. With the exception of a few people who looked like they'd come from one of the sunny islands of Superna – or perhaps Skyloft, or another sate – everyone was extremely fair-skinned.

Link turned his attention to their hair. The most noticeable feature of a demon, and the one thing that he saw a surfeit of in the demon realm, whether long, short, curly or straight, was starkly white hair.

Link saw hair of brown, blond, red, black, and every shade in between. The one color he didn't see was white.

But just as easy as it was to dye cloth, so it was to dye hair. As unaccepted as a demon would be in the human world, there was little reason to question why he or she would take up hair coloring as a means of fitting in. Bright white hair on a young Twili would surely rouse suspicion.

In addition, many of these demons were half human. This made differentiation even harder.

Standing still as the room filled with more and more people, Link discretely studied them, analyzing skin tones and eye colors. Many students were amazingly pale, but looked perfectly human. Others had Lilith's skin tone. Still others were darker. And they all had varying hair colors.

Even in a place as dark as Twilight, the sun would eventually deepen a demon's skin tone, causing him to become increasingly lightfast; yet another thing to consider.

Link rapped his fingers on his sides, thinking some more. The average height of a demon was also something to keep in mind. There was nary a short demon in the demon realm. In fact, short was most likely considered anything below six feet.

Ghirahim was much taller than that, as were so many of the other demons Link had encountered. Lilith, being a hybrid, was on the shorter side. If height was directly correlated to the likelihood that one was a demon, then Midna was wonderfully and reassuringly short.

Sighing, Link looked around with discouraged eyes. Demons might've been tall, but so were a lot of humans. Some of them towered over Link. Ruling someone a demon based solely on looks was a feat.

Full demons versus hybrids… Which were more abundant in Twilight, or in general? 'Original demons', as Lilith had described them, were thousands of years old. It could be assumed that they would have a harder time blending in compared to hybrids, who were not semi-immortal, but aged like the humans around them, albeit more slowly. A full demon, supposedly, would look the same today as he had at the time of creation. Surely people would find it odd if someone they knew, over the course of many years, showed no signs of aging. Perhaps the Twili wilderness was brimming with demon communities.

A demon face or a human face… Both races had features that were all across the map. Demons tended to have large eyes, but many humans did, also. Almost all demons had brown eyes, but so did the majority of humans. The pointed ears were characteristic of both races; limb-to-torso proportions were the same; voices varied widely; physical needs seemed to be the same for both races, although Link wasn't sure if Ghirahim had any needs besides making him miserable—

"Are we gonna fight, or are you just gonna admire the scenery all night?" Vigil asked from the center of the floor, his conceited grin just asking to be wiped away. "I know the girls in Twilight are way hotter than in Skyloft, but…" He shrugged amusedly. The only reaction from Link was a harder glare.

"You got that right!" Pipit called from somewhere in the room.

"Shall I grab us some swords, then?" Vigil asked. "Shall I also assume that we are doing this without shields?" Link gave a straight-faced nod as he walked to the middle of the room, watching his challenger all the time. A few moments after disappearing into one of the back rooms, Vigil came back with two metal swords – both of which had obviously seen hundreds of sparring matches.

"Take your pick, friend," he said, raising his brow slightly. Their gazes locked as Link's hand came up. "Aren't you going to inspect the weapons?" Vigil asked. "Compare them? You never know. They might be different sizes, different thicknesses, different weights—"

"I don't care," Link replied, still staring Vigil in the eyes. Grabbing one of the hilts, Link took the full bulk of the weapon into his hand, quickly adjusting to its heft before the tip had a chance to hit the floor.

Vigil's chin nudged outward in an acknowledging nod. "I see…" he said calmly, grasping the hilt of the sword that had been left in his hands. "I appreciate your confidence." He cocked his head, displaying an admonishing look. Link scowled. "But _overconfidence…"_Vigil took a step, bringing his face uncomfortably close to Link's. "Overconfidence has no place here. You, of all people, should know _that_." Link was barely able to stop his face from twisting.

_What? _he thought.

As if Link wasn't angry enough.

"Did he just say the O-word? Did I hear that right?" Link and Vigil slowly turned their heads to view Pipit, who somehow managed to recruit two remarkably pretty brunettes to keep him on his feet. "Hey, front row seat. Nice."

One of the girls tightened her hold on his arm, placed a palm onto his chest and smiled adoringly up at him. Link cringed, knowing from earlier that Pipit reeked like a mixture of about ten different drinks. Pipit looked down at the maroon-clad knight, gifting her with a horribly goofy smile which she seemed to eat right up. Link hoped that, for her sake, Pipit's weird face didn't mean he was about to throw up.

As the trio backed up toward the wall, Link refocused on Vigil, who promptly mouthed, 'Bring it'.

Link's left foot slid back as he leaned into his battle stance, the murmur of the audience fading into the background. He glowered at his opponent. The more he glowered, the more Vigil's face dropped. Whether his slumped expression was due to uncertainty, anger, nervousness or flat-out fear was indistinguishable. Link didn't care, anyway. He was looking straight at Vigil, but wasn't really seeing him.

Link's mind was wandering. His wrath was stirring. He saw his enemy – his true enemy, Ghirahim, who seemed to excel at the art of asserting his control over every facet of Link's life. The physical, the mental, the psychological – it was all the demon's playground.

Link's knuckles started turning white around the tarnished hilt.

He heard the demon's chuckle and felt the soft sweep of red velvet.

He saw the faces of every army general who had wasted the past forty-eight hours of his life. He saw Sheik, the most arrogant man in the sky realm. He saw the mission in the woods that he should have been completing right now.

Overshadowing everything else, however, was Zelda. After hearing Pipit's summed-up version of Zelda's mission earlier, Link had started getting antsy. He just wanted to leave, to get on the move, to be there waiting for his best friend at the appointed time, not flying from one state to another to accommodate a bunch of strangers. He had a weapon to track down and a volcano to locate, and he had to make it there in time…

Despite what had happened between her and Pipit, Link wanted to see her so badly he could almost taste it. He wished that he could be the one escorting Zelda through the wilderness, protecting her from enemies, watching over her as she slept at night… Not some mysterious woman who claimed to be Zelda's guardian. Who knew who she _really_ was.

Zelda needed him, and for some reason, the powers that be seemed to want to keep them apart.

Link cracked his neck, still feeling the chain that was no longer there, yet had never left.

Twirling his sword a few times, he looked Vigil up and down. Vigil shuffled back in preparation.

Link might not have been able to be with Zelda right now, or go sword hunting, or revenge seeking against the demon, and he certainly wouldn't be able to play his violin worth a damn. On top of that, he couldn't even begin to understand what the Goddess expected of him, or where she was going to take him. But there was one thing that he _could_ do right now: kick this guy's butt.

"En garde?" Vigil asked, tilting back and putting Link on point.

"En garde," Link answered, bending into a bow as his opponent did the same. Any chattering that was still taking place abruptly ceased.

As the two slowly straightened, they crossed swords. The room had fallen deathly silent. Metal against metal rang out delicately. After both young men stepped back again, the game was on. Every eye was glued on the pair in the middle of the room.

The two cautiously circled one another, watching, listening, waiting. Vigil looked like he was going to say something, so Link let him.

"You freeze your dick off yet?" Vigil asked, chortling.

"Did I _what_?" Link asked, looking at him like he was insane.

"Yeah, I heard she's just as cold on the inside as she is on the outside." Vigil's tongue slid out between his teeth as he chuckled to himself. Link shook his head in amazement.

_And they say Skyloftian knights are unprofessional…_

"I say her old boss is _lucky_ she fought him off," Vigil continued, still giggling. "'Cause that's the last place you want frostbite…" Entirely too amused by his own dark and bad-mannered humor, he put his free hand out to Link.

Through with listening to this man spout off insults, Link hopped forward. In a flash Vigil reacted, swinging his sword diagonally from right to left. Link sprang back, dodging with ease. Frustrated with his miss, Vigil immediately shot forward and swiped at Link's middle. Link spun out of the sword's reach.

With his last spin, Link tossed his sword from his right hand to his left, whirling it behind his back before drawing it up into a vertical slash so fast that Vigil heard the clash of metal long before he realized that his hands were empty. He gasped and froze in place, his alarmed eyes bursting open as he felt the worn tip of Link's blade against his neck. Like stone figures they stood, Link's eyes following the line of his rigid arm as it brought the hard, cold evidence of Vigil's loss straight to his Adam's apple. As if to confirm his defeat, the sharp sound of metal crashing to the floor exploded outward, making him flinch.

Vigil's gaping mouth closed as he swallowed hard, looking at his dejected reflection amid the spark in Link's blue irises. He heaved a breath, realizing that he had been the only one to break a sweat.

Never before had he been beaten so quickly. In fact, a sparring match this short-lived had never taken place anywhere on the TKA campus, especially among Twilight's finest knights.

The silence was thick as Link lowered his arm, observing the taller man as his nostrils flared.

"Good fight," Link said, offering his right hand. Vigil's gaze didn't move. His mouth twitched as if he was thinking.

The next few moments passed in slow-motion. In a single heartbeat, Link's open hand dropped as he sensed Vigil's shoulders tighten. When Vigil's face clenched, Link leaned back on his left foot before ducking down.

By the time Vigil's fist reached where Link was standing, he had cleared the punch by several inches. In one fell swoop Link released his grip on his weapon, sending it sliding across the floor and out of the ring while popping back up and swinging his forearm to the right, deflecting a punch that had been aimed straight for his eye.

With a face that was becoming more flushed by the second, Vigil pulled his arm back, letting loose a rumbling growl as he sent another jab full force toward Link's head. Raising a hand, Link caught the balled up, flying powerhouse before it could connect with his face. It landed in his palm with a loud smack. Turning the tables, Link centered himself, gritted his teeth and shoved, sending Vigil stumbling backward. Shouts started escaping from the crowd.

"Hey…punching is an ill…illeg…illegalmove," Pipit mumbled off to the side. A bit late, but correct, nonetheless.

Link stood with his hands out, ready to either defend or attack. After regaining his footing, Vigil lunged, poised to tackle his opponent and knock him off of his feet.

Waiting until the right moment, Link stepped out of Vigil's path, dropped down and swept a leg along the floor, hooking his foot from behind and tearing him from his charge. With his feet pulled right out from under him, Vigil flailed his arms and landed on his back with a heavy thud.

Like a wildcat, Link pounced, seizing his deserving prey by his tunic, flipping him on his back, straddling him and bending his left arm up unnaturally at the elbow. Vigil arched against the pain.

"Ah, damn, see…" Pipit said, now seated against the wall with his two helpers. He wagged a wobbly finger as he took a few seconds to laugh. "I know what…_that_ feels like… That's the worst!" He looked to the side at his new admirer. "I told that moron he was done for."

Vigil tried looking at Link out of the corner of his eye. "Okay…okay," he said through shallow breaths. He winced. "You win…!"

"I'm not trying to win anything," Link said, leaning down and speaking quietly into Vigil's ear. "Whatever this grudge is that you have against Midna, I don't care. But there is one thing that I do care about."

"… And what's that?" Vigil huffed.

"Your apology," Link said.

"What, to you?" Vigil asked.

"Dude, speak up!" Pipit called as both young ladies massaged his shoulders. "Inquire… Inquiring minds wanna know what you're saying to that _loser_."

"It's no one's business, Pipit, not even yours!" Link answered, keeping his eyes on Vigil. He leaned in again. "Apologize to Midna." Vigil tried to shift but succeeded only in increasing the pull on his arm. He grunted. Link could tell he was struggling not to make any pained noises.

"She's not even here," Vigil said, his voice strained.

"I'll relay it to her," Link whispered through clenched jaws. He didn't burden himself or Vigil with tightening the grapple. He knew that his opponent was well aware of his inescapable restraint. Still, Vigil hesitated.

"This is stupid," he carped.

"What's stupid is a knight talking about a woman like that," Link said. "A woman who, I'm sure, didn't do anything to earn that knight's hatred."

"What the hell do you know?" Vigil asked, panting. "Mister hero. The perfect guy for the perfect damn girl. Bet you didn't even have to do anything…" He took a breath. "…to meet her unrealistically high standards…"

"Perfect?" Link shook his head. "Neither one of us is perfect, I promise you."

"I hate guys like you… You lucky fucking bastard…"

For several seconds, Link just stared, a flurry of aggravated thoughts hitting him.

"Lucky?" Link unknowingly clamped down on Vigil's pinned wrist. The Twili yelped. "If it was a choice between lucky and perfect, perfect would win, hands-down, and I already told you I'm a far cry from perfect." Link inched closer. "You think I don't know anything? Well, I'd say you know even less. I am anything but lucky. You don't even _want_ to know…" He looked into the wide, desperate eyes of his opponent. "You just don't want to know. But I'll tell you one thing: I'd switch places with you in an instant." As soon as Link admitted the words, his throat tightened with guilt. His hands loosened.

The silence between the two knights in the ring was the last in the building as impatient voices started jarring the quiet.

Expecting another half-baked comment from the peanut gallery, Link glanced at Pipit, who was caught in the snare of a passionate kiss with one of his helpers. Link sighed, surprised but not. He turned back to Vigil.

"Just apologize," he said simply.

"Sorry," Vigil mumbled.

"Sorry…?" Link asked encouragingly.

"Sorry, Midna," Vigil groaned, his temple hitting the floor.

"Thank you, friend," Link said, freeing Vigil from his grip. Finally able to stretch his arm, Vigil closed his eyes and exhaled gratefully.

Crouching before him, Link presented a hand.

Vigil looked at it for a moment before allowing his eyes to shut. Link stood up, convinced that his challenger wasn't ready to be helped up by _anyone_ just yet.

Walking away, Link was immediately surrounded by spectators, all marveling at his skill. The voices and pats on the shoulder quickly blended together into a single hand and voice that said, 'I've never seen anything like it.'

Looking at the ground, Link grinned a little. The pleasant memory of being praised back home for winning the Wing Ceremony returned. He could practically smell the crisp air on that oddly cool Saturday morning.

_What a weird day that was…_ Link thought. _Weird and horrible. Gods, Zel, I can't wait to have you in my arms again._

The building was completely abuzz. By keeping his feet moving he was able to avoid being sucked into any long conversations. He smiled, nodded and offered his thanks all the way to the door.

The misty night greeted him as he stepped through the door, happy to leave the grating noise behind. He inhaled and looked around. People were staring at him, as usual. No doubt word was already spreading about what he had just accomplished.

Not wanting to stop, Link started walking back to the hotel. He had no desire to be fawned over.

With the sparring hall receding in the distance, the looks that he was given jumped out from the darkness – doe-eyed from the ladies and skeptically awed by the guys. Link simply set his gaze on his feet, trying his hardest to keep a low profile.

He heard a low scuffle of shoes against the rocky path behind him, but he paid it no heed. Instead, he laughed inwardly, thinking about Pipit and where he might end up tonight.

_Maybe I should go back and get him._

After a moment, Link shook his head. Pipit could handle himself…hopefully.

As Link skipped over a large stone, something wrapped itself around his wrist. Jerking around, he came face-to-face with a very pretty sight.

Full yet delicate lips; long black lashes; hair styled and pinned elegantly back; auburn-tinted eyes that belonged on a goddess…

It could only be one person.

"Midna?" Link asked, not believing his eyes. It was dark, and details were obscured. Perhaps a Midna look-alike – such as what Pipit had been hoping for – had seen him in passing and wanted to try her luck. Link's mouth dropped in confusion.

Whoever this girl was, she had a grip of steel, and she wasn't letting go. When the corner of her mouth started to come up, Link blinked to clear his vision.

She let go of his wrist and reached both of her hands toward her hair. With both arms up her chest came out, asking for Link's attention, which he gave. A shapely chest framed perfectly by pink lace was difficult to miss, after all. He swallowed, bringing his eyes back up to hers. Her smile widened as she finished fiddling with her hair.

One hand pulled away, bringing with it a gleaming hairclip. The young woman's hair cascaded over her small shoulders, at last giving Link the proof that he needed.

A strong whiff of roses and a glimmer of red in the moonlight forced his disbelief away. He smiled warmly, wryly, not quite grasping reality. What were the odds of finding her right here, right now?

Just as he was about to say something, she gathered her hair to the side and held it out to him. Inches away from the tuft of silky copper strands, Link dipped his chin and looked at her curiously. Her upper-body bounced slightly as she chuckled.

"Thought you might want this," Midna said, tilting her head forward.

"What? Why…?" Link's smile lessened.

"To drag me back to your cave, of course," she said, wrinkling her nose at Link's bewildered expression. "Isn't that what men do after they duke it out over their _territory_?" If it weren't for her playful grin, Link might've thought she was genuinely offended.

It took a moment to register, but when it did, Link started laughing, and so did Midna. Soon, they were in a fit of giggles. They came together, curling their arms around one another. Link pressed his forehead to hers, inhaling her fragrance. She smelled so good.

"You didn't see that, did you?" he asked with a laugh.

"Oh, I certainly did," she replied, equally tickled. "It was impressive, but rash. Knights shouldn't be sparring out of anger, or for some need to be top dog."

"That wasn't my aim, Midna."

"Yes, but you're guilty of the former," Midna said, rubbing her nose against his. "I don't want any guys fighting because of me."

"I was defending your honor, Mid."

"Mmhmm," Midna hummed, lifting her head. "As much as I found your stunt…sexy…" She looked him over. "You shouldn't have done it." Her spirited look suggested she might reprimand him. He hoped that she would. After attaining such a monstrous victory earlier, he was eager to keep playing. Maybe he was on a roll. With him and Midna, there could be more than one victor. And it was so much fun…

Yet, he didn't want to rock that particular boat. He didn't want to provoke her, or himself, or to stoke anything that didn't need to be stoked right now.

"What're you doing here, anyway?" Link asked, rerouting the discussion.

"I should be asking _you_ that," Midna said. "Is this what playing your violin gets me? A disappearing friend?" Link's sunny expression dissolved as he remembered that he'd never said goodbye to her before leaving for Fort Cielgrenier two days earlier. "Did I rub you the wrong way?"

"Yeah, I mean no, you didn't, Mid. Sorry." He shrugged. "I was summoned by the general. It was very spur of the moment…" Midna gave a little nod, running a finger from Link's ear to his chin. His eyes fluttered.

"I was worried about you," she said, turning her eyes to where she was stroking Link's face. His hands slipped down, settling around her waist as he looked into her face, enjoying the slow movement of her lips. "When I saw that you and Pipit had left, and I didn't know where you'd gone, I didn't know what to think."

"Sorry. By the time I realized I'd forgotten to tell you, it was too late. Those soldiers were bound and determined to get me to General Sheik. Then I visited Superna, and Azuria, and now here—"

"You met General Sheik?" Midna asked, her finger slowing. Link nodded. "I've heard interesting things about that man."

"Oh, he's interesting, all right," Link said dryly.

"Do you wanna go somewhere so we can talk, where there aren't any people?" Midna asked.

"People?" Link turned his attention to his surroundings. Prying eyes were everywhere. Absorbed by Midna's unexpected presence, Link had forgotten about them. "Oh… I see what you mean."

"I think they're hoping that the damsel in distress will reward the brave hero with a kiss," Midna said. Link looked at her mouth. "I think they'd love that. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yeah, I agree," Link said distractedly. "But the brave hero isn't _with_ the damsel in distress," he added with some reluctance.

"I suppose not. Too bad. I guess the damsel and hero had better behave, then."

"Yeah…" Link rubbed the back of his neck.

"There's a bar right down there," Midna said, gesturing toward it. "It's a nice place."

"I think I've had enough of it," Link said.

"Oh," Midna said. "Well, there's this little pub on campus that has private seating. It serves this really nice—"

"Actually, uh," Link interrupted, "I have a…" He paused. "A hotel room for the…night."

"Oh." Midna nodded. Link couldn't read her. "You wanna go there?"

"Yes," Link answered quickly. The pair exchanged ambivalent looks. "I mean, not if you don't want to, if you think it's too…secluded."

"Secluded?" Midna started smiling again. "Why would that be a problem?"

"Oh, I dunno, I just didn't want to imply that…"

"Your room is fine," Midna assured him. They stepped forward with their arms around each other. "So, where's Pipit?"

"Making out with some girl," Link answered with a scoff.

"I thought he said he was gonna try and rein himself in?" Midna asked. Link scoffed even louder.

"I think he's gotten worse in the past couple days."

"Link!"

The two stopped, simultaneously looking behind them. A girl was hastily approaching. Link's face lit up when he saw who it was. He separated from Midna.

By the time the girl reached them, she was gasping. She slowed, holding her head in her hands for a moment.

"Oh, I'm too…buzzed to be moving this fast," Mora moaned, steadying herself.

"Who's this?" Midna asked, standing off to the side.

"Link, uh…" Mora began, breathing hard. "I found my friend. You know, the one who used to take the ukulele lessons?"

Link grinned. "Yeah?"

"Well, her teacher's name _was_ Kiri," Mora explained, her hands dropping. "Guess my memory isn't as crappy as I thought."

"What else did she say?" Link asked. Midna glanced back and forth between them.

"That her husband's name was Arn," Mora answered.

Link stepped back. "Really?"

"Yeah, uh…" Mora tapped her head as if to loosen the information. "My friend didn't really know her on a personal level, but she remembers that her and her husband left Evenfall a number of years ago."

Link's face proceeded to drop a little. "They're not here anymore?"

Mora twisted her toe into the dirt. "Looks that way." Her eyelids looked heavy.

"Do you know where they went?" Link asked.

"Oh…" Mora rubbed her face again. "Somewhere in…"

"Yeah?" Link urged.

"Skyloft, my friend thinks," she finished.

"No way," Link said, twisting to look at Midna. She just held her hands behind her back and pursed her lips.

"Yeah, I think that's what…my friend said, anyway," Mora breathed, backing away. Link watched her. "I'm gonna go back, though. Back to the—" She tripped over a rock but caught herself. "The restaurant. That's where everybody is, so…" She turned leisurely, giving an absent wave. "I'll see you around, hero man."

"Thank you! For…" Link's voice died out. He knew Mora wasn't listening.

Midna sidled up to Link. "What was that all about?" she asked over his shoulder. "Who's Kiri? And Arn?"

"I've got a few things to tell you," Link said, looking her in the eye. "I can't believe what she just said."

"Sounds like a lot's happened in just two days," Midna noted, taking Link's hand.

"It's amazing how much can happen in such a short time," he said.

"Hm, yeah," she said distantly.

"So, why are you here?" Link kept a close eye on the rocky ground as they started walking again.

"I figured it was a good time to return for my stuff," Midna said. "I left most of my things in my old dorm when I left. Now that I'm pretty settled in at SKA, I'm ready to drag the rest of my worldly belongings to my new room. Hopefully not to the disapproval of my roommate."

"Can Garnet carry all those bags?"

Midna gave him an innocent grin. "With Crimson's help, maybe."

"You're lucky you found me," Link said. Midna giggled.

"Actually, I won't be requiring your assistance," she said. "I paid some movers to do it for me. I arranged for them to meet with my roommate in Skyloft this afternoon so I could stay the night here."

"Homesick?" Link asked.

Midna shook her head. "Skyloft's my home now." She cuddled against him as they walked.

Over the next several minutes, the two backtracked along the path toward the hotel. The foggy atmosphere had cleared as if to permit just a little bit more starlight to shine down. The conversation began with Midna describing who Vigil was, how long she had been friends with him before he'd asked her out, and how little time it took for him to decide that she was the epitome of vileness for turning him down.

Link gladly informed her that he had given a contrite apology on her account.

"How did you know to come to the sparring hall?" he asked.

"Who wouldn't follow a huge group raving about what's sure to be the fight of the century?" she answered with a wink.

Soon, Midna's hand was in constant motion as she pointed out landmarks, explaining their significance and adding in her own thoughts and opinions about them, specifically about her old dorm. Her other hand, however, was the only one that Link was able to concentrate on.

Her right hand – the one that was holding him around the waist; the one whose fingers were toying with his belt and rubbing his tunic. If he leaned just enough to the side, he could feel her fingernails through the thick wool. His favorite part was when she inserted her pinky underneath the belt. It almost gave him goose bumps, but in a good way.

Link felt that the return trip was much shorter than his walk to the restaurant had been with Pipit. It must've been Midna's hand.

Walking past torches and plants, they entered the hotel lobby. After a few remarks about the wonderful pool smell, the two climbed the stairs to room twenty-five.

"Well, the Twili army could've done better," Midna said as Link unlocked the heavy door. "This place is nice, but there's fancier."

"Well, I don't need fancy," Link said as he pushed the door in.

Stepping inside, Link was startled to find Pipit passed out on the bed with a girl seated next to him. She was the same small, slender girl from the sparring hall. Her dark knight's cap curled around, hanging over her shoulder. Her hand rested on Pipit's back.

_So much for secluded_, Link thought.

"He said he wanted to come back here," the girl said in a hushed voice. "He said he didn't want to worry you." Link looked around for a moment.

"Well, that was…nice of him," he said.

"I wrote down my name and address and stuck it in his pocket," the girl said, gazing somberly at Pipit's sleeping form, "but I doubt he'll remember anything about me tomorrow."

"Oh, I don't think he'll be forgetting that kiss anytime soon," Midna interjected with a little smirk.

Link turned to her. "I thought you said you hadn't seen him?" She shrugged. Looking at the other girl, he saw that she was blushing.

"I'll just go, now that you're here," she said, sounding flustered. She rushed for the door.

"I'll make sure he remembers you," Link said as she made her escape.

"Thank you…" he heard from the hallway. He smiled at Midna. She shut the door behind her.

They both looked at Pipit. "They're awfully cute when they're sleeping, aren't they?" Midna asked, giving Link an elbow nudge. Pipit twitched in his sleep. His mouth hung slightly open. Link laughed quietly.

"He's lucky I'm not the kind of friend who paints his face and fills his hands with whipped cream while he's sleeping," he said.

"I wouldn't let you anyway," Midna said, sitting behind Pipit on the bed. "That's just mean. And he's too good of a friend for you to abuse like that." Link raised an eyebrow.

"Mhm," he said, sitting next to Pipit's head. "This room's getting crowded. We can't all sleep here tonight."

"Why not?" Midna asked, leaning against the headboard. "Now that I know you're here, I'd rather sleep on your floor than in my old bed."

"Isn't your roommate gonna be looking for you?"

"She never cared before," Midna said.

A loud snore tore through the room. Link and Midna had to laugh.

"Think we can go visit your roommate now?" Link asked, shaking his head. Crawling past their unconscious friend, Midna settled next to Link, resting her head on his shoulder. He leaned his head against hers.

Keeping his distance from her tonight was not going to be easy…

…

"Oh… My liver…"

Link's eyes cracked open at the sounds of early morning whining. Weak sunlight was trickling in through a small window across the room. He shut his eyes again, curling his fingers around the softness which sat in his lap. As his fingers got lost in the smoothness of it, it groaned at him.

Confused, Link withdrew his hand and tried to sit up, but was thwarted by something heavy. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he tried pushing himself up. Looking down, he spotted the source of all the weight: a mass of red hair with a head beneath.

His hands sank into the soft cushions of the hotel couch. His legs were crisscrossed. Midna had turned his entire lower body into a pillow. Accepting the fact that he was stuck, he laid his head back down. Memories of his late night conversation with Midna slowly came back to him. She must have fallen asleep on him sometime in the night. Why her head was in his lap, though, was beyond him. It was strange, but…comfortable. She was so still and serene that he didn't want to disturb her. He gently ran his fingers through her hair.

_So much for keeping our distance,_ he thought with a smile.

"Uuuuugh," Pipit moaned. Link peered at the bed to see his friend rolling onto his back. Pipit gripped his head and writhed.

"You okay, Pipit?" Link asked, already knowing what his problem was.

"Mm," Midna said, still asleep. She snuggled deeper into Link's lap, rocking her head and curling up tightly between his legs. Link's spine stiffened as he felt the pressure and warmth from her face against him. _Now_ he was awake.

"Oh, gods, my _head_…" Pipit whimpered.

On the other side of the room, Link's mouth was gaping and his hands were scrambling for some leverage. He tried uncrossing his ankles, which worked, but it only resulted in Midna's head sinking deeper into his groin. He gasped.

"I think I'm dying," Pipit said. It took a moment for Link to speak.

"You'll be fine, Pipit," Link said, trying to hide his dilemma. Not that Pipit was aware, anyway.

"I need to visit the—" Pipit hit the floor after rolling too far. "Ah! Oh, goddesses, I think I broke my face!"

Shaken from her slumber, Midna opened her eyes. She bolted upright. Sitting on her heels and gawking at Link, she pulled back a bit.

"Sorry," she said with a hand on her face, coming to terms with where it had been. She didn't start grinning until she saw Link's flabbergasted look.

"It's okay," he insisted.

"Mmhm," she said, chewing her tongue.

Link sighed. Even first thing in the morning, with crazy hair and old rumpled clothing from the night before, Midna was still his beautiful, fiery she wolf.

"Little help?" Pipit shouted, face-down on the rug. Link and Midna curtailed their silent flirtation and left the couch. Together, they hauled Pipit back onto the bed. He swayed before cradling his head in his hands.

"What'd I do last night?" Pipit mumbled.

"What we do every night," Link said. "Take over the world."

"I feel like someone's hammering stakes into my ears," Pipit grumbled. Sitting down on either side of him, Link and Midna gave each other concerned looks. "And what the hell is she doing here?"

"I think I know what he needs," Midna said.

After a tedious and very painful walk to the TKA campus nurse – and two bouts of vomiting along the way – Pipit was able to obtain a bottle of what was endearingly called, 'morning after pills'. Similar to what the SKA nurse offered her hung-over patients, this handful of herbal gems would be Pipit's only means of functioning that morning.

"Holy…" Pipit said, plopping down on a bench outside of the clinic. He munched a couple pills. "I guess I should've stayed in the room."

"You insisted on coming, Pip," Link said.

"Don't take too many," Midna said. "You'll start seeing spots."

"Spots are better than puking." Pipit popped a few more.

"You'll be fine, Pip. We'll take care of you," Link said, grabbing his shoulder.

Pipit shied away. "Ow…"

"It's gotta be close to eight by now," Link said. "We've gotta get back to the hotel. Our escort's gonna be waiting for us."

"Ooooh," Pipit groaned.

"Do you want me to come with you guys?" Midna asked, eying Pipit.

"That's up to you, Mid," Link said.

"Well, I'd like to come along. Pipit probably needs someone with him while you do your thing. And I haven't been to Cyainus in a while…"

"We'd love to have you along," Link said. "Right, Pip?"

"Uuuuuuugh…"

"See? He agrees," Link said with a nod.

Midna grinned. "Let's go, then."

"Death to alcohol," Pipit said, wiping his runny nose.

"Why did he drink so much last night?" Midna asked as they went on their way.

…..

Flying eastward was an enormous relief. East meant home.

After an hour-long flight, they were closer to Skyloft than they'd been since Friday.

Cyainus was gorgeous, namely the vast field of wildflowers that comprised almost half of its entire main island. Today was not the day to frolic through the tulips, however.

With Pipit constantly in the back of his mind, Link met with General Heron. After answering every question in full – far more enthusiastically than he had during his last two meetings – Link shook the general's hand and thanked him for not keeping him waiting. As he ran out, he heard the man say, 'I'll see you on the surface, son'.

Pipit had stayed behind with Midna in the landing area. She stood watch over him as he lay motionless on Crimson's back.

"Mmmm," he droned.

"We should come back to Cyainus soon," Link told Midna as he helped her onto her loftwing. She nodded, watching glumly as Link climbed onto Crimson, who by some miracle convinced Pipit to sit up. Link planted himself in front, giving Pipit something to lean on.

"Let's go home," Link said to Midna. Two pairs of enormous wings spanned outward, blowing around every leaf and blade of grass in the vicinity. The three humans were whisked into the air. Pipit found a reprieve from his aching head as he soaked up the warmth from his friend's back. Link didn't mind.

He took a deep breath. He felt alert, with an unobstructed mind. He looked ahead to the wide open sky. He peeked at Midna, thrilled to have her by his side.

"You know what I can't stop thinking about?" she asked, her hair billowing.

"What's that?" Link asked.

"You playing your violin." Link just looked at her. "Maybe you can play when we get back. Just for me." She smiled sweetly.

Link looked away. "Maybe after I do what Fi told me to do…"

"We'll have plenty of time," Midna said. "Okay?"

Link sighed, wondering what in the world to give in response.


	30. Home

_Rest assured that more Ghira/Link fun is on the way…_

**Warning:** _Mild sexual content._

_Just wanted to say thank you to Lady Mordecai – You reviewed anonymously so I can't PM you, but I wanted to say that your review came at the perfect time and really made my entire day. Thank you so much. And thanks to everyone who's reviewed since my last update. This chapter is dedicated to you guys._

Chapter 30

Home

The light through his eyelids shined a vibrant orange. He tossed his head, slowly coming to. He breathed in, identifying the fragrance of a place that shouldn't even have had a smell at all. Not to him. His ability to detect his own aroma was indicative of how long he'd been gone—too long. Was he dreaming?

He moved his head to the right and was met by the blurry sight of a dark wall. By turning his head to the left he was able to recognize the texture of his own pillow. He was dizzy; his blue eyes rolled before closing again.

He didn't feel right. His head was aching. He felt as though he was recovering from a terrible virus. His discomfort was mild, though, with only a hint of queasiness.

"I need—" But before he could finish his garbled sentence, a hand slipped beneath his head to cradle it. Feeling the cold touch of glass against his lips, he parted them, inviting in a room temperature liquid. Water submerged his dry throat, soothing every inch of him on the way to his stomach.

His head sank down as he squinted, trying to see who had helped him. But before he could succeed, something of a completely different sort entered his mouth. It was warm and pleasant tasting. He stopped fighting his closed eyes, feeling the gentle sweep of a tongue that was not his own.

Someone was kissing him, so he kissed them back. "Mm," he groaned, his entire body relaxing under the careful pressure being placed on him. It seemed measured; just enough for his indisposed form.

He rotated toward the one who was beside him, noticing the constriction of a heavy comforter. Feeling a slight scratchiness against his skin, he discerned that most of his clothes were missing. All he could detect on his body were shorts. No matter. He had already determined that he was in his own bed.

The kiss deepened. He wanted to reach for whoever was next to him, but was hesitant to move too much. He was still recuperating from…

Something. He wasn't sure. Everything was hopelessly hazy. All he knew was that he was saturated right now—drenched in a wonderful feeling. He slowly pulled his lips away, his eyes giving him only a narrow view. Still, he thought he knew who was with him.

"What lengths won't you go to…" he breathed, "to help me feel better?" A smile flashed before him. Whoever this person was was kneeling next to his bed. Shutting his eyes, he leaned toward them again, asking for more affection. He received it instantly.

But every time he attempted to pull away and speak, his mouth was overpowered. It felt so good he forgot about his malaise.

"Pipit…" the person whispered into his mouth. His eyes flirted with the idea of opening all the way, but wouldn't allow him the luxury.

"Mm," he groaned again, opening his mouth some more. He was so cozy and comfortable. "You're the best," he said with his mouth covered. Despite his reticence, he lifted a hand, holding his caretaker's face and participating more in the rhythmic sway of the kiss. His chest expanded as it yielded to a large breath.

His mind carried him to the last place he remembered being: a sparring hall in Twilight, with a huge crowd of people.

Pipit stopped moving as he felt a hand sneak underneath his blanket. He smiled, expecting a chest rub. He soon discovered, however, that the hand wasn't interested in rubbing _just_ _that_. His mouth opened in surprise. It pushed out a few rapid breaths as his whole body began to respond.

He still suspected he was in a dream. A very good one.

"I…the fight," Pipit said, pushing up to his elbow. "He… _Link_…"

Suddenly, the fervent kiss was withdrawn.

"Link?"

Pipit recognized that ladylike yet demanding tone anywhere. With reality jarring him, he finally opened his eyes. The fuzzy edges of a silhouette became clearer. Light-green tunic, a girly hat to match, short reddish-brown hair, almond-shaped crystal blue eyes, a cute little nose—

Karane, of course.

Pipit took a breath and cautiously rose to a sitting position.

"Why did you say 'Link' like that?" Karane asked. Looking down, Pipit saw that she _was_ kneeling on the floor.

"Uh," Pipit started to say, "my head's…foggy." He continued after a few forceful blinks. "I coulda sworn I was still in the sparring hall, or on Crimson, or just…" He gazed into her questioning eyes. "He's the first one that came to mind." He shrugged.

"Who did you think you were kissing?" she asked.

"Uh…you?"

One of Karane's eyebrows furrowed. "Well, _Link_ hasn't been the one sitting next to you all day, watching you sleep and hoping that you haven't given yourself alcohol poisoning." She took a seat beside him. He looked behind him to the window over his desk. To his astonishment, the light was already dying.

"Did I really sleep all day?" he asked, trying to press the pain out of his forehead. He grimaced. Karane's fingers took the place of his. He closed his eyes once more as the heat of her hand seeped into his skin. Her touch felt amazing.

"Is this really the only way for me to get my hands on you?" she asked. "I have to wait for you to give yourself a massive hangover?"

"What?" His voice was husky from sleeping for so long. He wrapped a hand around her small wrist and brought it to his lap.

Karane smiled. She lifted a hand to run her fingertips through his hair. He knew that she preferred his head to be undressed. She thought his unkempt hair was adorable. "Ever since you left for the surface you've either been gone, or you haven't been here long enough for me to see. Even before that…" She massaged his head, making him rock forward. She placed a hand on either side of his face, urging him to look at her. He did so reluctantly. "It's almost like you've been avoiding me."

Pipit shook his head. "No. I spent most of the weekend traveling. And before that, you knew where I was. I told you I was going to the surface."

"Link told me you'd gone state hopping," Karane said, dropping her hands to his shoulders. "It's before that that I'm talking about, _and_ before the surface."

"I didn't tell you I was leaving with Link," he confirmed with a weak nod. "That was crappy of me…"

"Well, it wasn't the nicest thing to hear that you were back only to have my hopes dashed _again_."

Pipit sighed, wondering if his burning eyes were as red as they felt. "I know."

"But that's not what I mean, either." Her eyes were piercing. Something stirred in Pipit's stomach, and it wasn't nausea. "I've barely seen you in the past three weeks, since the big party at the Lumpy Pumpkin. You can't use the excuse that you've been away. Not the whole time, anyway. Is something wrong?"

"Wrong?" Pipit tried to offer a little smile. "No…"

Karane cocked her head. Her patronizing look made him cringe. "You're a terrible liar, Pipit. Tell me the truth."

Pipit's jaw hung as he dithered. "W-well…"

He had already decided to tell Karane the truth in Superna. He'd told Link he was going to do it, and he meant it. She needed to hear the truth. She had to know that he didn't feel the same way about her that she felt about him. She needed to know that he couldn't be with her. She was too good of a person to be led on. He knew that his dishonesty had carried on long enough. In fact, it was eating him up inside, among other things.

Her eyes looked sad. Pipit knew this was not going to be easy.

"If something is wrong, Pipit, you need to tell me." Looking down, Karane ran circles around his hand with her thumb.

But words were failing him. He didn't know how to go about it, or how to let her down easily. No matter what he said it would probably crush her. She was crazy about him; for what reasons, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he didn't deserve such adoration from her.

He just had to come out with it.

"I just—" he began, but the look on her face tripped him up. "You're too good for me." Not what he knew he should've said, but at least it was something.

Karane pulled back. "Too good? Pipit, I love you." She squeezed his hands. "I don't care about our backgrounds, or families, or even whether you think our personalities clash. Maybe they do, and maybe we're pretty different, but I _love you_, Pipit."

He bit his tongue, knowing that he needed to kick it up a notch. "I'm a dirt bag," he said, summoning some genuine guilt to fuel his words. "Really. There's at least five hundred other guys on this campus who would be better for you than me."

"Pipit…" Karane lifted his hand and kissed his fingers. His heart sped up a little. The gesture was innocent on her part, but secretly arousing for him. He tensed, disappointed in himself. Even now his mind tried to lock onto a single track.

"Karane…" he said, attracting her eyes. He immediately realized that his face had given him away. He felt her lips begin to play with his fingers more freely. "Karane," he repeated.

"Have you forgotten what today is?" she asked, her breath moist against his skin.

"What's today?" Pipit asked. He looked to the side, scared that he'd forgotten something important. His hand jerked involuntarily as she tickled it.

"It's your birthday," she said, nipping the tip of his pinky finger.

"It is?"

"Yes. Your birthday is only a few days after Link's, silly. How could you have forgotten?"

Pipit stared. The past week had been so devastating that twenty-second birthdays and the like had fallen on the wayside.

"When I looked up in the sky today and saw you guys returning," she said, switching to Pipit's left hand, "I was so happy." Pipit gulped as she dragged a finger along his palm. "Then I saw that you were mostly out of it. I helped Link and Midna get you to your room, but I was pretty bummed." Her head came down again.

"About?" Pipit asked, intently studying what she was doing. It felt fabulous on the tough skin of his sword fighting hand.

"I had something in mind for your birthday," she said, her voice sounding more enticing by the second. "For weeks, actually, I've wanted to do something special for you. Something different. But you looked too sick to enjoy it."

"What, you mean like…" Pipit moved his free hand about. Karane nodded. "We've already done a lot together. I mean…a _lot_." He smirked to himself. "What's so special that you…" He quieted as her gaze came up. She looked extremely serious.

"What's something that we've talked about before, months ago? Something that I said I didn't think I would ever do for someone?"

Pipit thought for a minute. Then his weary face lit up. "Oh, that?"

With a smoky look in her eye, Karane nodded. For a moment, Pipit was the happiest man in building eleven. Then he remembered. "You can't do that," he said, shaking his head.

"Why not?" Karane asked, paying even closer attention to his fingers.

"Because…" Pipit said. "What if Horwell or Owlan are in their rooms? Or the Headmaster?"

"Never stopped us before," Karane pointed out. After another nip, she wrapped her lips around the very top of his index finger. His toes started to curl under the blanket. "Do you like this?" she asked.

"I, uh…" he muttered. "Actually, uh—"

"Why don't you lie down and let me finish taking care of you?" Karane said more than asked.

"Well, I—" he managed to say before she put a hand to his chest and pushed him down. He hit the bed with a heavy bounce. He put a hand over his eyes to stop the head rush that was coming on.

"I've been sick today," he said, trying to gain her sympathies. "How do you know I'm up for this?"

"As soon as I saw the color return to your face, I knew you were fine," Karane said, sitting tall above him. She pulled his arm down. Pipit opened his eyes to a proud smile. "You woke up a little while after, so I greeted you in what way I saw fit." She brought her mouth close to his. "Didn't you like that?" He nodded. "As much as this?" She claimed his left hand again and teased his finger between her full lips. He just stared. "Why didn't you tell me that you like this?"

"Oh, I dunno," Pipit said, unable to hide his mounting interest. "Just one of those things, I—" His chest heaved as she took his finger into her mouth and curled her tongue around it. She observed him closely as his eyes got wider, his face flushed and his breathing hitched. Showing no mercy, she gripped his hand with both of hers and slid his finger in and out, picking up the pace.

Pipit was panting now. Her mouth was incredibly hot. He raised his eyes to hers, coming to terms with how determined she truly was.

His breathing got louder. She knew how to do it, and how to get him. He had a weakness for her forcefulness, and she had no qualms exploiting that. Normally, he didn't, either.

Still, no matter how pleasurable it felt, Pipit saw his finger in the demon's mouth. Ghirahim's words played in his head. Even worse, he saw Calwren doing and saying the same things.

"Karane," he said. She had shut her eyes. "Listen, I appreciate what you're trying…well, _willing_ to do, but you really don't need to." He closed his eyes and breathed, wishing she would stop.

"Why not?" she asked, carrying on with Pipit's special treatment. In a moment she had straddled him. He grunted as she settled against his lower body, rocking her hips on purpose.

"Because I feel like I'm using you," he said, having a rough time of removing his eyes from her busy mouth. He tried to ignore what she was doing further down, as well.

"It's your birthday," she said with her mouth full. "Use me as much as you like." Pipit shook his head and looked into her approaching eyes. She left his finger behind to nibble on his neck.

"Good lords in heaven," Pipit mumbled, gasping as he felt his earring twist around. "That's not what I mean…"

"Everything that I've ever done with you, I've wanted to do," Karane said against his neck. "You haven't used me."

"No, that's not what I mean, either." He didn't want to insult her but this was going too far. He was nearly turned on to the point of no return. "Please, just…" He stopped when he felt her hand slide down far enough to grab what he didn't want her to grab. "Please, just listen," he said quickly.

"I am listening," Karane said, concentrating hard. "Make all the noise you want."

His body was telling him to give up. It told him to surrender, to forget about the issue at hand, and to worry about the consequences later.

Her stroking, tailored to fit exactly how he liked it left him speechless for a time. With his head spinning, he kept returning to what he knew he had to do. It was his duty.

"Dammit," he snarled under his heavy breath, gaping at the ceiling. "Karane, look at me."

"I am looking at you," she said with the blanket around her shoulders, her eyes fixed on what she was fully and happily responsible for.

"That's not what I mean, either," Pipit mumbled, not wanting to look at what she was doing. Unfortunately, it didn't stop him from feeling it.

"Why don't you tell me about the surface," Karane suggested.

"What? Right now?" he asked, clutching his sheets.

"Sure."

He looked around. Maybe it would slow her down. "Well, it's, uh…a lot of it is like Skyloft, except it's um…" He lifted his head to see that Karane wasn't looking him in the eye at all. She was entirely absorbed in the new task that lay before her. "…Bigger." He was scared to death that she might go for it, giving him no warning and no means of escape. He knew that if she did it was game over.

"I'm really not feeling that great," he said, using a pitiful voice. "Why don't we do this later?"

"Let me help you feel better," she said absently, lowering her head.

"Ah! Wait!" Pipit exclaimed. Karane jumped and looked him in the face, at last. With every muscle clenched, he tried to hold her stare. "What if someone shows up? To check on me?"

"I implied that you might be _busy_ later," Karane said. "I think your friends got the hint to stay away."

"But…don't you wanna talk?" Pipit asked, trying another tactic.

"I only asked you to talk so I could hear you become progressively unable to speak," she admitted. "I…like the way you sound when that happens."

Pipit looked down. Denying how aroused he was was completely out of the question.

"I think I like someone else," he stammered. Karane raised a brow.

"You like someone else?"

"Yeah," Pipit said with a firm nod. "So I don't feel right doing this."

Karane was quiet for a minute. "Who?"

"Uh… I…" He knew he should have planned ahead. "Ilia."

"Ilia?" she asked. "That flutist who you've said at least fifty times is plain and boring?" Pipit tried to think of a rebuttal, but Karane's hands were so unhinging; beguiling, even. "Stop lying."

"I'm not lying," he said.

"Yes, you _are_," she scolded, stroking a little more.

"This is gonna be over before it even starts," he warned her, shifting beneath her talented hands. Her take-charge manner was driving him up the wall. She played the soft-spoken dominatrix quite proficiently. It was something he couldn't help but love about her. She was in uniform and everything. "Okay, it's someone else," he said with a shaky moan.

"Who?"

"Someone you've never met." He hoped for some sort of acceptance from her. Surely she would have to listen if he kept insisting.

"That doesn't matter," she said, loosening her grip to lightly massage him. Pipit almost forgot what was going on until she said, "I still want to be with you."

"What do you—What do you mean?" he asked, his inner turmoil reaching a boiling point.

"I mean it's normal to like other people," she explained, her eyes on her current project. "There's been a few guys here and there I've had a little thing for. It doesn't matter. You're the only one I want."

Pipit didn't know if his ailing state was making Karane's ministrations seem even more delicious than usual, or if he was just that much of a letch. But the way she was so lovingly tending to him…

He sank further into his pillow as he wrapped it around his ears. He grumbled into it. This wasn't fair.

"Just let me, please," Karane said, dropping down. Pipit craned his neck to look her in the eye. "I'm gonna be so depressed if I can't do this for you." She licked her lips. "Dreadfully depressed." Her tone changed when she said that, as did her face. Pipit plopped his head down again and stared at the ceiling.

"This is terrible," he said vacantly, "and _I_ am terrible."

"No, you're not," Karane said, slowly preparing him, and herself.

"You have no idea," he replied.

….

"Can I get you anything else, honey?"

An enormous pepper and cheese omelet sat steaming on a plate in front of Link as Henya slowly stood up. The short, elderly woman barely had to bend down to give him a peck on the cheek. His grin died out as soon as it appeared.

"No, thanks," he said.

"How about a tall glass of pumpkin juice?"

"You mean the kind that will make me a titan?" he asked, finally smiling a little.

"Of course. Let me get you some, dear." Henya turned and started shuffling to the other end of the room. Link glanced at her grey head as she trundled, feeling bad that she was using precious energy to serve him something that he didn't want.

She knew he didn't like it, but she always fed it to him, anyway.

He sighed, picking at his food. He made himself take a bite. He had requested it, after all, though he wanted the attention more than the food. Henya had forgone her usual dinnertime responsibilities in the dining hall to stay behind and cook in the breakfast room, just for him, so he'd better eat.

It wasn't that her cooking wasn't good. It always was. He simply had several worries suppressing his appetite. At the forefront of his mind were two very important young ladies: Midna, for her rejection of his act of defending her, and Zelda, for her aloofness at a time when she should have spoken with him. A little more appreciation would have been nice.

Earlier, after dropping Pipit off in his room and filling Karane in on a few things, Link had eaten a relaxing breakfast with Midna. Once she had partaken of and had been thoroughly impressed by Henya's culinary skills – and had sworn that every breakfast on campus was going to be eaten in building eleven from now on – she was escorted back to her dorm to get cleaned up.

After visiting the sparring hall and asking Commander Eagus for his best sword and shield, Link took a walk to the Goddess Statue. As dark and foreboding as it had been the first time, he stepped inside, placing the Ruby Tablet beside its Emerald counterpart as fast as he could. He ran out to the distant vibration of a new opening forming in the cloud cover.

Afterward, he headed back to his room, but was intercepted by the Headmaster. He followed the kind yet intimidating man upstairs to his office for a chat about Zelda. As grateful as Gaepora had been to hear the latest news regarding his daughter, he had something spirit-dampening to share with Link: the apology that he had been told to give to Groose for hitting him at the Lumpy Pumpkin had been unsatisfactory, or so Gaepora had been told. Link was to offer another more sincere apology at his earliest convenience.

Link left the Headmaster's office, his feet assaulting the stairs as he stomped to the first floor. As soon as he unlocked his door he came face-to-face with trouble in the form of varnished spruce and maple, four strings of varying thicknesses and a bow. After securing his door, he headed straight for it.

For three hours he played it; fought it was more like it. From string to string he went, bowing, tuning, listening for something, _anything_ at all that would shed some light on why he couldn't seem to play.

He could play, but it sounded so awful it hurt his ears. He tightened and retightened the bow hair so many times he snapped some of them. Or perhaps it was the sheer number of times he dug his bow into the strings to force something other than a clangorous screech out of them.

From the E string to the G, it was utterly hopeless. There was nothing for it. He had never twisted so many nobs or had been so frustrated with a personal failing in all of his life.

To top it all, he couldn't seem to stop asking himself the same question: why can't I play? And, as expected, his own mind would cut in with: because of yourself. This is your fault.

And amid all of that, he heard Ghirahim: '_You can thank me later,_' he had said, timing it right at the very second that Link's eyes had become tinged with tears.

'_Why_?' Link asked.

'_Because you deserve every second of this.'_

Years and years of dedicated practice, gone; whisked into oblivion with nothing left to show for it but a single tear trickling down a very red, infuriated face.

Link narrowly resisted the urge to defenestrate his violin. But it wasn't his instrument's fault. Maybe he should've thrown _himself_ out the window. He was willing to bet that if he'd spent less time allowing the demon to have his way with him, he could have stopped this curse.

Whatever was required to remedy this, Link knew that he was not the one to provide it. He felt defeated, destitute, and shamefully reliant on the demon.

Not having the heart to hurt his violin, he placed it in its case, flipped the latch and huffed all the way to the breakfast hall. By then it was dinnertime. It took little convincing to keep Henya in the building after she'd completed her clean-up chores. How could she say no to Link?

The woman's incessant but not at all unwelcome talking kept him sidetracked for fifteen whole minutes while she whipped up the fantastic smelling omelet. In that time, Link had summed up the surface for her, had let her know that Zelda was still down there but was relatively safe – which was everyone's question for him – and had inadvertently revealed to her that something was bothering him.

Taking a moment to sit next to him after serving his meal, Henya inquired as to what that something was. After murmuring that his violin was 'giving him problems,' she gave a sagely nod, asked what else she could do for him and got up. Link knew that she could have asked for the truth, but was grateful that she hadn't pressed the issue.

Now, here he was, with way too big of a glass of pumpkin juice in front of him. He sipped it, upset over more than just his own difficulties—

Pipit had most likely fooled around with a certain young woman whom he had absolutely no business even touching. Maybe he needed to be reminded of what he'd said about being truthful with Karane in Superna.

Link was so full of disappointment he could taste it, even over the unrivaled flavor of the omelet. He speared another chunk of it and took an angry bite, glaring out the window above his table at the darkening sky.

The shadow of someone tall overtook him then, waving to and fro with the flames of the wall torches. The prongs of Link's fork scraped his teeth as he pulled them out.

Pipit collapsed across from him, grinding the feet of his chair across the floor as he leaned an elbow to the table and rubbed his face.

"You have my permission to kill me now," Pipit said, fully dressed in his casual beige SKA attire. "Just run me through. That lousy sword will do." He pointed to Link's scabbard beside his chair.

Link glanced at him just long enough to notice that his eyes were wet. "So good it made you cry?" he asked, taking another bite.

Pipit split his fingers and looked at him through the space. "Good?"

"Yeah, you know, your present," Link said, refusing to look at him. "_Happy birthday_." He glowered at his plate.

Pipit returned the uncaring look with incredulity. "Man," he said, shaking his head, "you have no idea what just happened."

"I think I do," Link said, "based on that impressive holler that I and most likely _everyone_ just heard from your room."

Pipit stared, then looked away, nodding contemptibly. "Oh, I see." He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "Why don't you look at me for a minute." Link ignored him. Pipit pounded his fist, causing Henya to take a break from washing her skillet to peek at them. "Dammit, someone better listen to me tonight." Link finally did his friend the honor. Pipit pointed a stiff finger at his face. "Do these look like tears of joy to you?"

Link pushed a bitter pepper around in his mouth. "Then what are they?"

Pipit's eyes tapered. "Wow, you all are somethin' else. No one's paying attention, no one's listening, but everyone's got a judgment to make." Link chewed a few times, withholding his opinions.

"Pain. Tears of _pain_," Pipit continued, "tears of the sort of pain that I never knew existed."

"Why?"

"She…bit me!" Pipit cried, trying to keep it down.

Link's chewing slowed. "Huh?"

"Do I hafta say it again?" Pipit asked. "She freakin' _bit me_."

Link swung his fork over his food in thought. "What…like on the lip?"

Pipit's face scrunched in annoyance. "No."

"The ear?"

Pipit sighed. "No…"

"The shoulder?"

"What is she, a rabbit?" Pipit asked, tossing a hand up. "_No_."

"Then what did she bite?" Link asked, looking Pipit over.

"I'd show you but we're in a public place," Pipit said, crossing his arms and reclining.

Link's eyes dropped as he pondered. "Pipit, if your twisted games went awry and you got hurt, sorry but I don't feel too bad for you." He went back to eating.

Pipit's stunned face loomed over him for a moment. "Twisted games?"

"Uh-huh," Link said, resting his face in his hand. "It might even be fair to say that you had it coming."

Pipit was starting to turn a whole new color. "I what?"

"You haven't exactly been respectful to Karane in her absence," Link said.

"Oh, so I deserved that? Is that what you're saying?"

Link shrugged. "I dunno. I just know irony when I see it."

Pipit slammed his palms on the table and jumped to his feet. Link froze and brought his gaze up halfway. "It wasn't some game," Pipit gnarred. "I told her the truth."

Link's detached expression softened. "You did?"

"_Yeah_," Pipit said, his voice rising at the end of it. "Why do you think she did that?"

"I just assumed—"

"Well, quit assuming and listen, then," Pipit said, leaning menacingly over.

"Pipit, just calm down and _sit_ down, will you?" Link asked.

It took some time, but Pipit sat, burying his face in his hand. "I've never had the potentially best birthday turn into the worst so fast before," he whined.

"I don't get how that could've happened," Link said. "Why did you wait until she was doing _that_ to tell her?"

"I didn't do it on purpose," Pipit said, sitting up. "I tried telling her earlier, but it wasn't working. Plus she was dead-set on seducing me, which she pretty much did."

"Even though you aren't feeling well?" Link asked.

"She's good, man," Pipit said with an insistent nod.

"What did you say to make her do that?"

"Once she started going all out I knew I was outta time," Pipit said, sounding exhausted. "I just started naming off women who I'd been with recently without really thinking about it—the knight after the party a few weeks ago, that curly-haired chick from Superna… a group of demonesses…" Pipit shrugged when he saw Link's face. "But she didn't bite me 'til I said I liked Zelda."

Link curbed a grin. "Did you talk to her after?"

"Well, she ran across the hall to her room, and I mighta followed her, but I was a little busy dying on my floor."

"You seem okay now," Link said.

"Only problem is if I see her right now I'm gonna punch her in her damn face," Pipit said. "Not something I'm totally okay with."

"The sooner you talk to her, the better," Link said, taking a big bite.

"Sooner the better? Need I remind you of your little double-knee-to-the-groin snafu a few weeks back?" Link gave him a dry stare. "You dropping to your knees and curling into a whimpering heap in front of everyone was the most pathetic sight I've ever seen. What if Zelda _hadn't_ jumped off that ledge and gotten away from you? What would you have done, huh?" Pipit tilted further over the table. "And don't tell me you would've calmly taken her hand and asked her to talk it over."

Link didn't move.

"Unless of course you were too star struck over the fact that Zelda had finally touched you there, even if it was just to kick the well-deserved crap outta you."

Link's ears started to burn a little. "That's a pretty nasty thing to say."

"Hey, I just don't want you to enjoy my suffering so much and delve so far into sadism that you forget about the pleasures of masochism," Pipit stated. Link didn't know how to respond just yet, so he just swallowed. "And it's fair to say that you, _also_, had it coming." Link glared at him. "So, how'd you feel and what would you have done?"

"I was mad and I wanted to—" Link stopped himself. He looked at his plate and sighed. "I wouldn't have done it, though."

"Mm, whatever," Pipit said. "That's just 'cause you had time to cool off." He stood up. "Just like I need."

"You go right ahead, then," Link said with his eyes low.

"I plan on it," Pipit said as he walked across the room. "I'm taking a bath."

He would have heard Link's 'okay' if he hadn't marched out so fast.

Caught off-guard by quite possibly the strangest looking pair on campus – the ridiculously lanky, big-nosed Strich and the stumpy Cawlin – Pipit stopped. He looked up at Strich. The tall, homely fellow gave Pipit an awkward thumbs-up. Pipit looked down. Cawlin, who possessed the rare talent of making Link seem like a giant, was shooting daggers at him. Pipit bent at the waist in an effort to look him in the eye.

"You're not missing anything," Pipit said. He took a left toward the bathroom. The comically short man sneered as Strich guffawed.

"Bunch of clowns," Pipit muttered, slapping the heavy door out of his way.

In the breakfast room, Link took his last bite just as Pipit disappeared into the seclusion of the bathroom. With two separate tubs in the room, Link considered joining him. He had already decided against it by the time he'd handed his plate to Henya. Pipit was likely in need of some private time after being left high and dry by his now ex-girlfriend. Link's bath would have to wait.

It would have to happen tonight, however, because his time in Skyloft was growing short.

Link nodded to Cawlin and Strich as he passed them. He walked a little ways, but didn't go as far as his dorm. He had a job to do.

He stopped at Groose's door. He looked at his feet, hearing nothing from the other side. With a sigh, he knocked a few times.

"Come in," Groose called. Bracing himself, Link opened the door and stepped in. Looking to the right, he found Groose. He was sitting on his bed in the same casual outfit as Pipit, hunched over and staring at the floor. Even his big red pompadour seemed to be slouching.

Link glanced at the corner across from Groose's bed. Over a pile of free-weights hung a punching bag. He saw that the same badly drawn picture of his own face was still scrawled across the middle.

_Well, he still hates me,_ Link thought.

Not wanting to spend any more time here than he had to, Link spoke up. "I'm sorry I—"

"Save it," Groose interrupted. "That's not why I told the Headmaster your apology sucked."

Link's mouth had practically been set on automatic to get the words out as quickly and painlessly as possible. He had to will the rest of his robotic sentence away. "Okay…" he said.

"I just wanted to ask you something before you skipped off again," Groose said, pressing both hands together.

"What's that?" Link asked. This was bizarre. Groose was only good at being an adversary, not a conversationalist.

"Zelda," Groose said softly, "is she all right?" He was still looking down.

"Yeah, she's okay," Link said hesitantly.

"No," Groose said, bringing his golden-brown eyes up. "Is she really, _really_ okay?" The two young men stared at each other. "I don't just mean 'did she survive', I mean, is she safe? Where is she? What's she doing?"

Link's entire body loosened as he saw how concerned Groose was. He seemed bedraggled and stressed out, as if he hadn't slept since Zelda's disappearance.

"She's with someone," Link said. "She has a guardian. They're traveling from one part of the surface to another so that she can visit a spring. The Earth Spring, near a volcano."

"What's a…_volcano_?" Groose asked.

"I don't know," Link replied.

"Why aren't you with her?" Groose asked, giving an accusatory look.

"I…it's not my job," Link said. "I was told to come here. But I'm going back."

"I'm going with you," Groose said, sitting up.

"Huh?"

"I'm coming too."

"You…can't," Link said.

"Why not?" Groose asked, standing up and towering over Link. "The more swords, the better. I'm a good fighter."

_That's questionable…_

"It's… You can't get involved in this," Link said. "It's dangerous, and involves stuff that we've never…been trained to deal with."

"I don't care," Groose said determinedly. "This is Zelda. I don't give a crap about danger, or what I've been trained or haven't been trained to do." He gave such a stern glare that Link had to hold back a scowl. "No matter what, I'm going to the surface. I've heard there's a whole mess of people already down there. I shoulda been down there days ago. I probably could've had Zelda back by now." He crossed his arms and turned his face away.

Link sighed. He knew nothing was going to change Groose's stubborn mind. He was also through with being called a coward. "I'll see you on the surface, then," he said, walking to the door.

"You can bet on it," Groose said as Link shut his door. Walking to the bathroom, he rolled his eyes and balled his fists, ready to wash his hands of the situation. He couldn't possibly bear the burden of protecting another person during his trip to meet Zelda.

_Pipit, you better be ready to talk_, Link thought. Then, he stopped himself. _Karane…_ He looked over his shoulder. _Should I do it?_

He didn't move for two whole minutes as he brooded, weighing the pros and cons of walking up those stairs and knocking on Karane's door.

On the one hand, he didn't know her very well, meaning their conversation would more than likely be strained. On the other hand, he was about to go to the surface. Even if his attempt to console her resulted in some horrid gauche, at least he wouldn't be seeing her for a while.

And everyone had the right to be comforted after being dumped.

That in itself convinced him.

Rushing to do it before he lost his nerve, Link was at her door in less than half a minute.

"Go away!" she shouted.

"It's not Pipit," Link said.

Silence followed, indicating that Karane was thinking.

_Zelda knows her a lot better than I do…_ Link rubbed the back of his neck. _Something tells me Zelda wouldn't have been able to help with this particular problem, though._

It didn't take long for the sound of skittering and the shadows of two feet to approach. Stepping back, Link waited as Karane unlocked and opened her door. Her face appeared through the crack. Red-rimmed and bloodshot, her eyes proved that Link had made the right choice to check on her.

She vigilantly checked the hallway. "Is Pipit with you?" Her voice was raspy.

"He's taking a bath," Link said.

"Oh…" She looked down.

Link bit his lip. "Uh, I just wanted to—"

"Did he tell you what happened?" she asked, sniffling.

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Oh, well…" Her fingers curled around the door.

Link wasn't sure what to do. "So, are you?"

Karane canvassed the corridor again. "Why don't you just come in?" she asked. Her door swung in with a creek.

"Uh," Link said, "sure…"

Setting foot inside her dorm, the first thing he noticed was the darkness. Her shades were drawn, blocking the last of the twilight. Not a single lamp was lit.

She immediately fixed the problem. Each of two oil lamps on her bedside table and desk came to life. No longer needing the light from the hall, Link shut the door.

He spotted something pink and familiar on her bed to the right. "Zelda's robe?" he asked, trying for light conversation.

"Mhm," Karane answered, sitting beside it and rubbing her eyes. "She let me borrow it before she…" She folded her hands and sighed.

"Yeah," Link said.

"I miss talking to her," she said, her voice breaking a little.

"Me too," he said, nodding.

"Do you wanna sit down?" she asked.

Link considered his options: sit on the bed right next to her, or sit on the chair by her desk, which was also right next to her. He rocked on his toes.

"I'll just stand," he said.

She nodded. "You've seen her recently. She's okay, then?"

"For now. Didn't Pipit tell you?"

Her expression flattened. "I don't know if I should or shouldn't believe what comes out of his mouth anymore."

"Well, what don't you believe?"

She shrugged. "What he said about us. I dunno. Maybe I just don't want to believe it."

"He told me he tried to be honest," Link said.

Karane's eyes came up. "He did?" Link nodded. "It's true, then?"

"I dunno exactly what he said to you, but—"

"So he kissed some Twili girl?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah, he did," Link said.

"And slept with some girl in Superna?" she asked.

Link hesitated. "Yeah."

"And some…blonde knight a few weeks ago?" Link nodded once more. "Did he really have some sort of ménage à trois this weekend?"

Link looked away. "Actually, I think it was more than just…that."

"More?" Karane looked even sadder.

"I wasn't there, but… Actually, I have no idea," Link said. "I don't think I want to know, really."

Karane looked away and scoffed. "I hate him right now."

"I don't blame you," Link said.

"Why does he have to like Zelda? Is nothing off-limits to him?"

"That's what I said," Link mumbled.

"I can't believe him. Aren't _you_ supposed to be with Zelda? What happened to that?"

"Well…"

"I just…can't believe any of this." Karane leaned over her knees. "I can't believe I thought he was the one. I'm so stupid."

"No," Link said, almost stepping forward. "You're not stupid for liking Pipit. He's…"

"A fabricator?"

"Not exactly," Link said.

"A deceiver?"

"Well…" Link sighed. "He actually felt pretty bad about having to tell you about all of that."

"Hm, how noble of him," Karane said.

"He's a good guy. He's just sort of—"

"Loose?" Karane asked.

"I guess," Link said.

"I think I already knew that," Karane said, exploring her palms in thought. "He'd already said that he didn't want to get too serious, and while I was okay with that, for now… I didn't want to accept that he was so… Flirtatious, and…" She took a breath. "I didn't really mean to…_hurt_ him earlier. It just happened."

"He'll get over it. Just give him some time," Link said.

"Time to grow up?"

"Maybe." Link cleared his throat. "So, you're okay, then?"

"Yeah. I'm all right."

"Okay, well…" Link backed up to the door.

"You're going to talk to him again, aren't you?"

"I think so."

"Please tell him that I said sorry," Karane said.

"Oh, sure."

"Sorry that he's such a selfish jerk."

"Yeah…okay." Link quickly made for the exit.

"Thank you," Karane said quietly, "for checking on me."

"No problem."

Shutting the door, Link pressed himself against it and thanked his lucky stars that the discussion was over.

It was time to talk to Pipit again. Not only did Link feel the need to show his friend that he could talk to him without being judgmental, but the near future needed to be discussed. Link knew where he had to go, but there was no telling what Pipit had in mind for himself.

Stopping by his room, he grabbed something clean to change into, _if_ he ended up feeling brave enough for a bath.

The bathroom was almost as dark as Karane's dorm. Wall torches led the way down the hall toward the bathing area. It was cool and quiet, and smelled sweetly of plant life. The advantage of having instructors living in building eleven who loved plants was an indoor garden around the bathtubs.

Link rounded the corner to the right. The flickering light and delicate sounds of running water dominated.

The only part of Pipit that was visible was his head, which was resting comfortably on the edge of one of the round tubs. A stream of warm water, provided by the large stone structure beside the tub, poured into his bath, keeping it continuously refreshed.

"Is it safe to be in here?" Link asked, setting his clothes beside the tub on the opposite side of the room. He ducked down to avoid being clothes-lined by a long green vine.

"Don't worry," Pipit said with his eyes shut, "I already took care of it."

Not needing any further explanation, Link simply said, "Okay." He began taking his tunic off. "You should lock the door if you don't want anyone walking in on something."

"The girls have their own bathroom," Pipit said. "Not worried."

"Guys don't necessarily wanna walk in on that, either." Link pulled his shirt over his head.

"You're way too sensitive, man," Pipit said with a sigh.

"Are you gonna be done anytime soon?" Link asked.

Pipit opened one eye. "What, you can't take a frickin' bath with me in here? There's two tubs for a reason."

"You just make me nervous sometimes, Pip."

"Maybe this will help, then: the reason for two tubs is so guys have an excuse for a 'whose junk is bigger' contest." Pipit laid his head back again. "So, come on. Let's take full advantage, here."

"You sure know how to make a person feel better, Pip," Link said, whipping his pants off and jumping in the bath before any comments could be made.

"Here," Pipit called, tossing a small square object over to Link.

"What this?" he asked, catching it.

"Soap. Duh."

"I know that. Why are you giving it to me?"

"It smells really good," Pipit said. "Worked really well on my hair, too."

"Where'd you get it?"

"Somebody just left it here. Maybe it's Gaepora's."

Link grinned. "Is he really the type to use flowery soap?"

"Pssh, who knows?"

"If he is, that's pretty funny," Link said.

"I think it came from one of those little shops in the Bazaar."

"The one with all the different varieties?" Link asked, washing his ears.

"Yeah, except I usually call it 'flavors', but then again, I don't think 'flavors' can be applied to something inedible."

"Yeah, probably not." Link thought about using the razor in his bag, but decided against it. " You have a razor handy?"

"Yeah, here," Pipit said, throwing it.

Link let it hit the water before picking it up. "Thanks."

"Maybe the soap is a plant by Karane," Pipit said, brushing a hanging blossom of some sort out of his face. "Maybe it's something that I'm allergic to, but I don't _know_ that I'm allergic to it…and she _does_."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, and I'm gonna end up with a full-body rash for like a month. Geez, what a bitch."

"Pipit…" Link cautiously lathered his hands. "I just spoke to her. She's really upset." He dunked his head before scrubbing the suds into his hair.

"Yeah? She should be. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she sharpened her teeth just for the occasion." He flinched a little.

"She's upset that it didn't work out between you guys," Link said, rubbing the soap all over his face.

"Don't get it in your eyes," Pipit said. "It stings like hell. Must be the perfumey stuff."

"You coulda told me that three seconds ago," Link groaned, dipping his face in the water.

"I coulda been honest with her sooner, sure, but she didn't have to bite me."

"I agree," Link said, combing his fingers through his hair.

"I just need to avoid her, I think. For a while, anyway. Think you'd like company on your next wilderness excursion?"

"You wanna come with me to get the sword?" Link asked.

"Sure, why not? Sounds pretty dull, to be honest, but it's better than hanging around here trying not to think vengeful thoughts."

"I don't expect it to be much fun," Link admitted. "It seems like we just escaped the woods. But, oh well. If you wanna come, that's fine by me."

"I'm packing food this time," Pipit said, climbing out of the water and dripping everywhere. He grabbed a folded white towel. "And better stuff to make a fire, and a bottle for water… Actually, this time I'm just going to be _prepared_."

"I appreciate what you did last week, though," Link said. "As unprepared as you were, it was still thoughtful of you."

"Someone needed to come to your rescue," Pipit said, drying his hair and pulling some shorts on. His pants and shirt followed. "I'd stay and wait for you, but I think that the only thing weirder than two guys discussing soap flavors while bathing beside one another is two guys walking out of the bathroom together, smelling pretty."

"Yeah, that's…" Link nodded lightly as he ran the razor up his face.

"So I'll see ya." Pipit scooped up his dirty laundry. "I need to get my tunic cleaned. And sleep in my own bed tonight. Especially if we're gonna be using rocks as pillows starting tomorrow."

"Okay."

Pipit walked to the entryway. "What would happen right now if I ran away with all of your clothes, and all the towels, _and_ your bag which has your room key in it?"

"Then I'd be sprinting to the kitchen, finding a pot to wear and then banging your door down."

"Good to know. Well, 'night."

"Sorry about earlier," Link called.

Pipit waved two fingers in the air before disappearing. Link shook his head and finished his bath in peace.

….

When a rather sad sound rang out from his violin, Link jumped to his feet, feeling bad that he'd just thrown it down.

He crossed his arms and stared at the instrument. He walked to the end of his bed and stared. Then he sat on the spare bed and stared some more.

He paced for an entire half hour without taking his eyes off of the source of misery; it was sitting on his green comforter, almost mockingly.

Then, he heard a knock at his door.

Not knowing who would want to visit him this late, he went to answer it. He was surprised to find Midna.

"I can't sleep," she said.

Unable to fully resist looking her over in her baggy pajamas, Link tried to keep his search brief. "Why not?"

"Nightmares," she said. "Can I come in?"

Link stepped out of the way and held out a hand. "What sort of nightmares?" He closed the door.

"Oh, I dunno," she said with a sigh. "Maybe I'm just overwhelmed on your behalf, or something." She smiled, her red hair hanging loosely around her face. "You've got a lot of responsibilities."

"My dreams haven't exactly been pleasant, either," Link said.

"You're going to the surface tomorrow, right?" Midna asked, sitting on the spare bed.

"Yeah," Link said.

"You're all ready to go?"

"Yep." He pointed to the worn sword and shield in his corner.

"Hopefully the sword you're going to get looks better than that."

"Me too."

"Are you excited to see Zelda again?"

Link wasn't sure why she was asking. "Um, yeah, a bit."

Midna nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Is there anything you…want me to do for you?" Link asked.

"Do for me?"

"Yeah, 'cause you can't sleep."

"I don't want to keep you up," Midna said.

"You're not. I'm awake for the same reasons."

The two locked eyes for a few moments. Link tapped his foot, anticipating something. He didn't know what.

"Do you have a comb?" Midna asked.

"Why, does my hair look that horrible?" Link asked.

"No, silly. I was wondering if you wanted to comb my hair for me."

Link looked around. "Comb your hair?"

"Yeah. It relaxes me. You just offered to do something helpful." She smiled and shrugged. Link rummaged through his desk drawer for the necessary tool, and Midna eagerly sat on the floor next to the bed. Link sat behind her, not at all unhappy to have Midna between his knees.

"Mm, that feels nice," she said, sighing. Link was glad she couldn't see his grin. If combing her hair made her sound like that, he ought to do it more often. "Do you care if I sleep here tonight? I'm a bed hog, so I'll take this bed here, and stay far away from yours."

"Sure, if you want." Link happily went back to work.

The pair turned their heads toward Link's door as heavy footsteps plodded past.

"Hey!" they heard Groose yell into the silent building. "Who used my soap!"


	31. Send Her My Love: Part Three

_**Warning: **__Some sexual content_

_Recommended reading—"A Thousand Sordid Images" by Vyscaria—fandom: Assassin's Creed. I have no knowledge of Assassin's Creed, yet this story is so much like original fiction and is so authentically written that it effortlessly draws in the fandom-blind. Summary: "_A gypsy girl of the desert finds herself plunged into the world of the assassins. In pursuing her destiny, she unveils dangerous secrets which force her to question her faith in Allah, her loyalty to her heart, and what it means to be a woman during the Third Crusade." _Seriously my favorite fic on this site. If you want a worthwhile read, check it out (it can be found in my rather short Favorite Stories list)!_

Chapter 31

Send Her My Love: Part Three

Fi stared into the woods. She had all but forgotten that, a moment ago, her secret wish to kiss the Goddess's hero had almost been fulfilled. Her lips, torn from their pursuit for Link's, were confounded. Too many questions were piling up in her mind.

"_Captain?"_

Fi shook her head absently. The voice was close; much closer than it had been when she'd stood guard over the Sealed Grounds. Even then, she could almost feel hands hovering over her. Now their presence was even stronger.

"What did you say?" Link asked. A chill shook Fi from her daydream. "Something about forgetting someone?"

Fi cleared her throat. Her tongue felt like lead. Not that she wanted to say much, anyway.

"Oh…" She gazed into the trees. The deepness seemed to be calling to her. If it had arms it would have reached for her; pulled her in. "No." She looked at Link and smiled, but he didn't smile back. "My mind is drifting. I'm hearing things. It's been a long…" She stopped and shrugged. "…Year, I suppose."

Link finally grinned. "I know." He looked at Fi's mouth as if it had unfinished business with his.

Unsure, she looked away. "Maybe I should just turn in for the evening." She brought her gaze back to him. He seemed tentative.

"That may be best…" he said quietly. His eyes communicated something different, however.

_What is it that you really want?_ Fi thought. She longed to know, for something told her that it was the same thing that she wanted.

She sighed, yearning to hear his thoughts, hoping, wishing that a link could be formed between them.

If only she could hear just a few words, no matter how faint.

If only two resolute stares had the power to elicit a telepathic connection; their minds would have been joined on the spot.

But it was not meant to be. The two minds remained disconnected, as did their hands during the pensive walk back to camp.

Fi held her hands behind her back, twisting a thumb in her palm. Every rustle made her jump, every crunch of leaves stole her breath, and every whoosh of the wind made her doubt that the woods really were free of danger.

_What am I worried about? We won this land back weeks ago._

As she stepped, she glanced at Link—a pillar of light in the gloom. Her own strength had been enough to defend against every enemy that the surface had to offer. But even if that strength failed, Link was there to protect her. For this, she quickly dismissed her fears.

Hylia's temple was as quiet as the western province. It was not at all the bustling hub of activity that it had been in previous weeks. More and more empyreans were leaving every day. The small number of humans that had survived the war were departing as well, either heading to the desert or the sky. Even the humans who were acclimated to the cold found themselves wanting to leave.

Torches ran along the rim of the chasm but had no one to burn for other than the random visitor. Fi and Link passed them by.

The camp was nearly silent. A new camp had been set up by the Skyview Temple for those who wanted to stay near the construction site. As a result, Hylia's Realm was becoming increasingly deserted. Fi made her way to her tent, not sure why she was bothering to tiptoe. There was almost no one here to disturb. Only a few lonely fires lit the grounds.

"Do you want to sit inside for a little while?" Fi asked, trembling from the cold.

"Sure," Link said, pulling one of the tent flaps aside for her. She bent down and entered. She took a seat on her wooly rug, sighing as it warmed beneath her.

Without a word, Link retrieved some wood from the communal pile in the middle of camp. Soon, a moderate fire was blazing outside, sending waves of heat into the tent. Fi rubbed her arms, thankful for Link's talent for building fires. Being from a realm with a mild climate, fire building was not something that empyreans excelled at.

"Thank you," she breathed, her shivers subsiding at last.

"No problem," Link said, sitting next to her. He watched her for a moment. Firelight danced along every object in the tent. "You sure you're all right?"

"Yes, why?"

"Behind the temple, you seemed distracted."

"Oh…" Fi bit her tongue. "I think I'm just a little anxious."

"For what?" Link asked.

"To leave. To show you Empyrea." She smiled, admiring the light on his face. "And to see the island in the sky."

Link grinned. "Yeah."

"Skyloft," she said. "I love the name that Hylia chose."

"Too bad we can't see it better through the clouds," Link said.

"No matter," Fi said. "We'll be there soon enough."

"When do you want to go?" Link asked.

Fi took a deep breath. The smoldering pine smelled wonderful. It was comforting even if it brought back memories of long, wakeful nights. "Tomorrow," she said with surety.

"Tomorrow?" Link's eyes brightened. "That soon?"

"Why not?"

"There's nothing else that you want to do here?"

"Our work is done," Fi said. "Don't you want to leave?"

"Yes," Link said.

Fi smiled at the keenness in his voice. "Me too."

"I'm glad you invited me to see your home."

"Of course. I didn't want to go without you," Fi said, wondering how much she should be revealing to him. She looked down.

"I've really been looking forward to seeing your city," he said. "And the mountains, and rivers, and…" Fi froze as he looked harder at her. "Everything…"

She peered at Link's hands as they pressed into the wool between them. "Yes, I can hardly wait to show you…everything." The heat against her chest felt so soothing. Curious as to why she could feel the warmth so well, she brought a hand up, noticing that the top of her dress had slipped down even more. She stiffened, slightly alarmed. Surely Link had seen. She looked down. In terms of keeping her covered tonight, her dress had failed miserably.

"You still look cold," Link said, removing his cloak.

"That's all right," she said before he could drape it across her shoulders. "I've warmed up quite a bit thanks to your fire."

"Oh." His cloak dropped to his lap.

"I was wondering what other plans you had," Fi said, her voice lowering, "for after we visit my home, and Skyloft."

"Other plans?"

"Yes. If you have any…"

"Oh, well…" Link started to smile. "I thought maybe we could…decide together. If you want."

"You mean you want to stay in Empyrea?" Fi asked, curbing a smile.

"Sure," he said, sitting up straight. "I don't care if it's strange for a human to live there."

"If any human is ever going to be welcome in Empyrea, it's you," Fi assured him. "But what about the sky? Don't you want to return to your family? Everyone that you know?"

"A lot of them are dead," he said somberly. "I like the idea of Skyloft. But there's only one place that I want to be, and that's where _you_ are." He leaned in.

Fi did also. "Me?" she asked. "Permanently?"

"Well, for as long as I'm alive," Link said. "I know that isn't very long for _you_, but…" He shrugged. "It's the best I can do."

_Adorable._

Fi's smile broke through. "I'd be honored," she said, "if you stayed with me." The longer she looked at him, the more serious her expression became. Reality couldn't be ignored.

"Empyreans believe in marriage, right?" Link asked.

Fi almost giggled. "Yes, empyreans get married."

"Do they ever marry humans?"

Fi looked up in thought. "Here and there, I suppose. I'm sure there will be quite a few empyrean-human marriages taking place in the desert in the coming weeks." She nodded.

"Oh. Good. I just wanted to make sure."

There was no question as to what he was implying. Even if he hadn't spoken what was on his heart, the truth lay in his eyes.

_Do you realize what you're getting into? _Fi wished she didn't have to voice her concerns. Thoughts were a much subtler way to discuss awkward subjects.

Then again, they had known each other for a long while, now. What was stopping them from being forthright?

"Do you have any children?" Link asked.

Apparently nothing was standing in the way of _his _ honesty tonight.

"No," Fi said, somewhat amused. "The only way for that to happen would be for me to—"

"Be with a human. I know," Link said.

"Yes… I've experienced a lot, but not that."

"Do you want children?" he asked.

"I'm…not opposed to the idea."

"Neither am I," Link answered. "Well, I want children. At some point."

"I'm glad," Fi said. "You'd make a great father."

"You'd make a great mother."

Fi couldn't tell if he was being truthful, was trying to inspire her or was simply repaying her compliment in kind. She appreciated his kindness, of course, but there were urgent matters that needed addressing.

"What about…" Fi drummed her fingers. "Her Grace?"

"Hylia?" Link asked.

"Yes. I know many of the surface dwellers, and empyreans, and the humans that I've spoken with…" She paused. "…Expect you to stay with her."

Dead silence lingered in the tent for a few moments.

"Hylia?" Link asked again.

Fi's eye twitched as she pondered. _Does he really not know? _

"Yes, haven't you heard any talk on the subject?"

"Not…really," he muttered softly.

"Noticed the strange looks from people when we're together?"

"Uh, a little."

"It's not that people dislike us, or disapprove of us being friends. We simply contradict what most believe to be the ideal: the Goddess and her hero. Many think that the two of you are meant to be."

"Really?" Link asked, looking bewildered.

"Yes. Now that Hylia's taken a mortal form, she must remain here. But you already knew that."

"That's why we built the Skyview Temple," Link said in agreement.

"You haven't thought about staying with her?"

"I would have told you when you asked the first time," Link explained. "I haven't really thought…" As his voice faded, Fi inched forward. "Well, maybe a tiny bit." He shrugged, his eyes wandering to the fire. "She's really beautiful. And some of the looks she's given me made me wonder…" He looked back at Fi. "It's not like she ever asked me, though."

Fi turned her gaze away. "I've been acquainted with Her Grace through the passing of many ages. You can be certain that she will never force or compel." She looked him straight in the eye. "She will hint, and then wait; give you the chance to make the move."

"She will?"

Fi nodded. "Without a doubt."

"Do you think she…w-wants me?" Link asked, nearly stumbling over the words.

"There is good reason to believe that she does," Fi answered, her forced bluntness making her wince. "I think there are many who feel the same way about you."

"Many?" he asked with a dropping jaw.

Fi sighed. "Link…" She placed a hand over his. "I'm not saying any of this to confuse you, or even to flatter you. I just want you to be aware. That's all."

"Of what options I have?"

"Exactly," Fi replied. "As fond as I may be to…be with you, the truth still stands: like you, Hylia is human. Her body is, anyway. Her imperviousness to fatal injury is vanishing more every day. You saw firsthand her wounds after the final battle." Link nodded. "The Skyview Temple is meant to be her home. Her…_permanent_…home. She's not leaving." He nodded again. "She must watch over the Sealed Grounds. She will be alone, aside from the surface dwellers. But they're not human."

"Oh," Link said thoughtfully.

"She could use the…protection," Fi said hesitantly. "The assistance." She didn't look at him as she spoke her piece. It was unpleasant but necessary. "Her days are numbered. Both of you will live for only a small fraction of an empyrean life."

"She will live on, though," Link cut in.

"Yes, her spirit will resume its role in the heavenly realm when it's time," Fi added. "But her body, like yours, will die. Do you not want a partner who you can grow old with?"

Link's face suggested that he had never given any thought to the matter.

"I implore you to meditate on this," Fi said gently. "Don't simply cast the notion away. It needs to be seriously considered, as does the possibility of going to the sky…without me." She had a hard time pulling her eyes away from the flames. The fire was the only living thing in the vicinity that she felt she wasn't hurting at the moment.

"Why are you telling me this?" Link asked, his shoulders slumping.

"Because if I don't, I'll feel terrible, as if I withheld something from you, or coerced you to be with me—with someone who's already been with many people. Someone who will go on living long after you're gone. Should I truly be the one to be with you?"

"Your age doesn't make you a bad person," Link said. "Neither does your experience. You can't help that."

"Of course…"

"It just makes you who you are."

Fi grinned. "A fair assessment."

"And who you are is someone who I know pretty well now," he said. "And someone who I'd like to get to know a lot better…" Fi waited. He looked as though he wanted to say more. "In every way."

_Oh, my…_ Fi felt warmth spreading across her face that had nothing to do with the fire.

It wasn't at all that she was inexperienced in the art of flirtation. In fact, she knew a great deal about it. It simply had to do with how odd it felt to hear these words from Link.

It was as if he'd just made a naughty confession. Still, like any human, he was difficult to read. She didn't know what he was feeling.

_If he knew what I was thinking, he would be blushing, too._

His innocent yet mature words were a turn-on. Fi took a breath, suddenly feeling as though the already small space was closing in on her. She hoped he would take some sort of initiative. His manner had become bolder in the last few minutes. Perhaps he would advance upon her…

She wouldn't fight if he did. His watchful, blue eyes were gorgeous. His body looked as amazing as always beneath his tunic. His lips looked appealing.

He, as a whole, was quite a temptation. She looked him over, not caring that she was being forward. His expression proved that he had taken notice.

She wondered how he would react if she were to reach up and carefully guide him down to the floor. What would he do if she kissed him? Maybe shy away. He was so young… Perhaps it wasn't the time to be thinking about such things.

Then again, it would be wonderfully pleasurable to show the hero that ecstasy went far beyond a hard-earned triumph in battle.

How incredible it would be to finally get under all of that thick material…to see if those arms really were as wonderfully defined as they seemed.

Maybe it really had been too long since her last encounter—

"Are you all right?" Link asked. "You seem a little out of breath."

She gave a little laugh. "It must be the heat," she said. "The fire appears to be climbing."

"That's because I build a good fire," he said happily.

_You're right about that. _"Yes, you do." Fi chewed her lip for a few seconds. "It's cozy in here, and so cold out there. It would be silly for you to have to stand out there and build another fire for your tent across camp…" She offered him a desirous look. "Would you like to stay here for the night?"

"Here?"

"Yes. It's up to you—"

But Link had come forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead before she could say any more. The brush of his mouth against her skin sent a pleasant jolt through her body. She shut her eyes and turned her nose to bury it in his blond hair. The way he became rigid against her made her tense, as well.

Neither of them moved. Fi sat with her cheek pressed to Link's, looking over his shoulder at the swirling flames.

Her closeness to him was incredibly satisfying in itself, but she ached for more. When her fingers came up to trail through his hair, she thought she heard him gasp. Her fingers curled as she rubbed them against his head.

He was responding to her touch. The almost unnoticeable rise in his body temperature, detectable only to someone as sensitive to subtleties as Fi, indicated at least some level of excitement.

But he was conflicted. No expertise was needed to see that.

She might have been experienced and willing, but he was young and unfledged. Fi knew that if she took the lead, he would probably follow, but that didn't mean that he was ready to do it. She much preferred to have the man take control, anyway. In time he would be ready to assume the role. He was not even twenty years old yet.

"Thank you for a nice evening," Fi said, scooting back. Link's eyes dropped as she let go. "I think I'd like to go to sleep, though." Link nodded. "You can stay here if you like. This rug is quite comfortable."

"Thanks," Link said before peeking through the doorway. "I might go back to my own tent, though."

Fi cocked her head. "Oh?" Her heart sped up. Had she offended him?

"Yes, well…" He dragged both hands across his neck. "I need to pack up my stuff, anyway." The grin that stretched the corner of his mouth was a reassuring sight.

Fi sighed. "Yes, I suppose we do need to do that."

"The snow is on its way," Link said, crawling toward the exit. "We can leave our belongings on the surface for a little while, but leather won't withstand extreme cold and moisture for long."

"A lot of cleanup needs to take place. All of these tents need to be dismantled. There are piles of abandoned scrap material here, and near the new temple. We can always come back and help Hylia with it."

"Definitely," Link said. He glanced at her over his shoulder and flashed a smile. He stayed there for several seconds as if to allow Fi to enjoy him for a moment. She gladly took the opportunity.

"See you in the morning, then?" she asked. He nodded, pushed the flap to the side and stepped out into the night. She stared at the empty space where Link had been, disappointed that he'd left but excited for what the morning would bring.

She was more tired than she'd realized. She laid her head down, rehearsing what she planned to say to Hylia the following day. Fi's duties had been fulfilled, but she still needed to ask for permission to leave her post at the Sealed Grounds.

With a huge smile on her face and a contented breath, her eyes slid shut. It didn't take long for her sleepy mind to give way to unconsciousness.

But a peaceful state was out of her reach. She was caught somewhere between asleep and awake; a place where her mind reveled in turmoil.

The darkness that she had pushed away for weeks was rising up again. It was taking shape, growing into a corporeal form. It loomed, standing over her, whispering. It dragged a finger from her face to her shoulder.

"_Captain Fi?"_

She stirred, semi-asleep, rolling from one side of the rug to the other.

"Who is calling me?" she asked, tossing her head.

"_Wake up."_

"Is it you?" she asked.

"_Ghirahim."_

"Ghirahim," she breathed. She felt a soft chill.

"_Ghirahim…"_

"Mm…" She curled up against the sudden sensation. She opened her eyes to see the roof of her tent.

"_Come outside."_

Fi sat up with a start. She gaped at the doorway. The fire was still red-hot. She held her breath, having thought that a dream had been responsible for the voice.

"Outside?" She leaned onto her hands. "For what?"

"I have something for you."

She gasped. The voice was no longer in her head. She scrambled for the door, shoved through the opening and slowly rose to her full height.

She hadn't fully stood up yet when her sight was met by a tall figure. His heavy boots were the only clue that she needed to know who he was.

Looking him in the eye, Fi froze like a deer caught in the ravenous gaze of a predator.

Her hands began to heat up. The response was a reflex; not at all something that she had willed. She squeezed her hands into fists to hide what instinct had forced upon her, but the demon had already seen it.

The fire sparked and popped between them, lighting Ghirahim's face enough for Fi to see that he was grinning. What was he smiling at? She looked down. Her almost bare chest, of course. Her dress had shifted enough to show much more than just a modest amount of cleavage.

Wearing this dress had turned out to be the worst decision she'd made in a long time.

Centuries old or not, it was still embarrassing for a strange man to see her unclothed. Luckily the dark was there to aid her, affording her a thin veil for her rosy face.

Adjusting her dress and rewrapping her cloak, she squared her shoulders.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her breath misting as she spoke.

"I promised I would return," he said evenly. His voice was as smooth as ever.

"It's been a long time," Fi said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I waited until it was time," the demon said.

"You did?"

"Yes."

Fi looked down at herself. Her legs were uncovered below her robe. "Why is now the time?"

"You are ready to move on," Ghirahim said, "or so I assume."

"Oh." Fi nodded weakly. "You waited until you knew I was ready to leave?" He nodded. "So you must be aware that I plan on leaving with someone."

"The human?" Ghirahim's dark eyes sparkled in the firelight as he tilted his head. He brushed his long, preened hair off of his shoulder. "Don't be absurd."

Fi lifted an eyebrow. "What?"

"You—with a human? Really, now."

"Yes, really. He's exceptional. What's wrong with that?"

"No need to be so defensive," the demon mildly reprimanded.

"Well—"

"Of course, your need to be defensive simply means that you feel you have something to defend," Ghirahim said.

Fi tapered her eyes. "What are you saying?"

"I am merely saying that you, my lady…" He started to walk around the fire. Unmoving, Fi watched his every step. "…Are too intelligent not to know that he does not belong with you, or _to_ you."

She scoffed. "Excuse me?"

"You know of what I speak," the demon said. "Leave the human alone."

"Who are you to decide what is right for a complete stranger? For _me_?"

"You are not a complete stranger." Ghirahim stopped by her side. Fi looked up at him. He reached into her cloak to find her hands. He untwisted her arms and wrapped his fingers around hers. "We are not strangers. We know each other well."

Fi fought the urge to back up. "No, we don't."

"How much time have I spent exploring your thoughts? How many hours have you delved into mine?" As his stare intensified, Fi's softened. What he was saying was true.

They had opened themselves up to one another; allowed each other to examine, probe and rummage. Out of all mental connections Fi had ever made, this one was the strongest, the clearest, and the most effortless.

There had been times when she would look forward to his presence in her mind. Guarding the empty grounds in Hylia's realm was lonely. His voice always brought something enjoyable to the drudgery.

Enjoyable… Yes, she enjoyed their conversations. In fact, they made her smile.

She blinked as the realization set in—her enemy brought a smile to her face.

Her head dropped as she felt a stab of guilt.

"_The iniquity which drags you down does not exist because of me, but because of the human. Let him go."_

"_I can't do that," Fi said._

"_Your guilt is justified. The human belongs with the woman. Let them be."_

"_It's not what he wants." _Fi felt the sting of tears in her eyes.

"He does want it," the demon stated, "and you know it." Fi's disbelief clung with fervor. "Don't take his future from him to satisfy your own lusts."

"That's not my intention at all," Fi said, her voice cracking.

"Emotion overtakes you because it is true. You are taking something that belongs to someone else. Your leader, no less." Fi sniffed and looked away. The demon's face inched closer. "An empyrean with a human will bring only bitterness." He paused. "Look at me." She listened. "You are a warm hand and he is a snowflake. If you claim him as your own he will melt, disappearing in seconds as if he never existed. And when he is gone, you will live on, knowing full well that you used him."

"I would never use him," Fi insisted, a tear trickling down her face.

"You cry because there is an unmistakable truth to my words." He wiped away the wetness on her face. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Fi closed her eyes and breathed. Even the lightest touch of his finger felt amazing.

"I don't know," Fi admitted. She felt the demon's hands tighten over hers.

"You do know," Ghirahim insisted. "You belong with someone as long-lived as you. Someone eternal. It is only fair."

"Fair?" Fi asked. "How do you know he wouldn't be happy spending his life with me, no matter how short of a time it may be?"

"Perhaps he would be," the demon said, "but can you carry on with the weight of his loss on your conscience?"

"What loss?"

"The loss of the life that he should have had," Ghirahim said with admonishment in his voice. Fi wanted to recoil under the heaviness of it.

"You're doing the very thing that you accuse me of," she said.

The demon appeared amused. "And what is it that you believe I am doing?"

"Leading me astray. Stealing me from someone whom I have a right to be with."

"I do not wish to lead you astray," the demon said. "Quite the opposite."

"What do you want?" Fi asked, beginning to fidget.

"I told you weeks ago: you."

"Why me?" she asked, shaking her head.

"You are special," he replied.

"I don't understand," Fi said. "Why would you want to be with someone of my kind? Wouldn't that make you a traitor? Require you to leave?" Fi studied his face, gleaning the answer herself. "That _is_ what you want, then. To leave."

"Only if it is with you," the demon said, looking upon her amorously.

"Please tell me what it is that you need me for," Fi said.

Analyzing his movements, Fi sensed Ghirahim's confidence diminishing. He looked in the direction of the Sealed Grounds. She shuddered. "It isn't safe for you to be out here," she said, attracting his waning attention. "If anyone were to discover you—" She paused. "Why don't you come inside?"

They looked at one another. Fairly certain that he was waiting for her, Fi backed up. As soon as she crouched to enter the tent, he followed.

It seemed even warmer inside than it had before. Maybe it was because it was getting colder outside. Whatever the case, the air inside, made warmer by two bodies, was approaching a steamy temperature.

The atmosphere was cozy. The soft glow reminded Fi of a lazy afternoon under an empyrean sun.

She let her cloak fall from her shoulders; it hung loosely across her chest and arms. She wasn't sure why, but she didn't mind Ghirahim's stare.

"Are you going to tell me?" she asked, sitting on her heels.

The demon focused on her face. "Yes." It seemed to be a struggle for him not to ogle her. She didn't care.

"All right." She waited with open ears.

"As I've said previously, I've been selected for an important position. It's momentous, paramount…"

"What is it?"

"I am to become the delegate of my king." Fi sat quietly. "Act in his stead during his…absence."

Fi took a moment to digest what he'd told her. "What does that entail?"

"Heading the government of my people," he said distantly. "Being his mouthpiece. Carrying out his orders, for better or for worse."

Fi blinked, finding it bizarre to hear this sort of talk from her enemy. "And this isn't something that you want? Do you have a choice?"

"No," he said dryly.

"How is it that you have no choice?"

"Do you know anything about my king?"

"I know that he is destructive and reckless. I know very little about what life is like under his rule."

"He has little interaction with his people," Ghirahim said. "We exist because we are his. If we were not, he would destroy us." Fi nodded. "We are for his benefit. We are his army. If he did not need us, he would eradicate us."

"How do you pledge your life to someone whose only aim is to use you?"

"He is still our king," the demon stated. "Surely you understand unconditional loyalty."

"To a loving leader, yes," Fi said. "Not to someone who would see to my death without a second thought if he was to profit from it."

Ghirahim just shook his head and looked at his hands.

"Do you not want it because you feel you're unfit to hold a higher position of authority?"

"I am a captain. I have no fear of governing."

"If you cannot decline the request of your king, yet you are wholly committed to him, then what will you do?" Fi waited until the demon met her gaze once more. She saw distress in his eyes.

"That is why I am here," the demon said. She leaned in. "It is not power or responsibility that I dread." He looked away. "It is my king."

Fi tried to lock eyes with him but his gaze seemed to run from her. She suddenly felt pity for him.

"There is only one way out of this," he said quietly.

"What is it?" Fi asked, intrigued.

"To do what is asked of me…" Ghirahim's voice lowered. Fi had to strain to hear him over the crackling of the fire. "I must connect with him."

"Connect? What do you mean?" Fi asked.

"It is…hard to explain," the demon said. Fi took his hand, encouraging him to continue. He stared at her kind gesture for a moment. "I will be bound to him. Perhaps for eternity."

Fi's jaw dropped. "What?"

"Yes." The demon glared past her.

"Bound like a…slave?" The last word almost didn't make it out of her mouth.

"I cannot be sure," he said. She squeezed his hand. "I am not prepared for this."

"And the only way to avoid this is…?"

"To be bound to someone else," he said.

"In…marriage?"

"Yes."

"I don't understand," Fi said. "If your king has chosen you, and your well-being means nothing to him, why would your marriage stand in his way?"

"Marriage in my realm is not merely a physical union, but a spiritual one," Ghirahim said. "To be wed is to be joined in body and mind. If someone else is already a part of me, it will impede what he needs to do. What he requires of me is an unadulterated connection." He took a breath. "I must be his, and his alone."

Fi's thoughts reeled as she listened. "I still don't understand."

"Neither do I."

"But…when you said that you wanted to fly away with me…" His stern expression made Fi's heart flutter. "You were referring to marriage?" It took a few seconds, but the demon nodded. "You've come to ask me to marry you?"

This time he didn't respond, but instead massaged her hand. She loosened her muscles, allowing him to freely move her fingers. Another chill coursed through her.

She didn't know what to say or do. Everything that he had said was incomprehensible.

"Ghirahim…" she whispered. He raised his eyes at the unsolicited sound of his name. She had succeeded in drawing his attention. But that was not all.

Out of all the instances that she had spoken his name, none had ever made her feel this good. She promptly realized that the truth must have shown on her face.

She turned her head as a cautious hand stroked her cheek before browsing the length of her neck. She shut her eyes, feeling his fingertips on her shoulder.

She felt her cloak being pulled away from her. Her eyes opened as she was left with nothing but her dress.

He looked her over with great concentration. She didn't move, granting him permission.

She tried to read his mind but her own cloud of emotion blocked her path. She almost spoke, but was hushed as he cupped her face in his hands. He drew her to him.

Fi gasped, taken aback by his boldness. But her short moment of rigidness was followed by a steady release; she melted in his arms. As his hands left her face, she opened her mouth, inviting him in. He quickly obliged.

She reached for his chest and found heavy material. She grasped it, rubbing her hands on the firm muscles beneath. She pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. The more of his tongue she felt, the more she wanted. It was long and marvelously flexible. She wondered if all demons shared this feature.

Her reason was leaving her, swallowed up in a surge of desire. Every movement of her hands and face was matched by the demon's, every sound and breath answered with more exploration.

As the motion of their bodies blended together, they sank to the softness of the rug. Fi wrapped her arms around Ghirahim's back, enjoying the weight of his body on her own. When he pushed his way between her knees, she welcomed him.

His tongue against her neck made her pant. With narrow eyes she looked to the roof. He was playing, experimenting, and she had no problem being his test subject.

"_I always thought empyreans were beautiful creatures,"_ _she heard him say_. She responded with a moan. He pulled back and smiled at her. The orange glow flickered all around them. _"You are curious, aren't you?"_

She gaped at him, her eyes moving to his mouth.

"_You know what I mean." _His smirk was playful.

Fi would've blushed if she hadn't been so turned on. She watched as his tongue, so dark and lithe, ran between his teeth.

"_Would you like me to?" he asked. _

Fi laced her fingers into his hair and pulled his head down, meeting him with a wide-open mouth, tilting her head to find the best angle. She was ravenous, and she wanted him to know it.

When he separated from her she was gasping. Her back arched as he traveled downward. She felt the bottom of her dress leave her legs behind and settle above her stomach. Her pulse sped up as her undergarment was swiftly removed.

Heat from the fire poured in, caressing her bare skin. Feeling exposed, she tensed. She felt her knees massaged by warm hands. She started to relax under his touch. Her legs finally parted again. The demon began to tenderly leave a soft trail of kisses along the inside of her thigh. As he made his way down, her eyes got wider.

In one swift motion of spirited cruelty, he teased her most sensitive areas before continuing his trek up her other thigh.

Fi dug her fingernails into the rug. She thought her heart might explode. Was her enemy really doing this? And was she truly enjoying it?

She mouthed his name over and over again as he nibbled her skin on his way back down. She swallowed, trying to keep a handle on her excitement.

With a desperate look on her face, she watched as the demon worked his magic. The sensation that filled her as his tongue went to work was indescribable. The cry that left her as her head fell back was beyond her control. As if she had sent out a signal for more, she was mercilessly ravished, overwhelmed and overcome in the most delicious way possible. Among her enamored ramblings was a 'thank you' to the Goddesses for the thick material which made up the walls of her tent.

…

The unclad pair stretched across the rug, face-to-face and bathed in sweat. Breathing hard, their mouths joined once more. Fi had no more moans or groans left in her, except for one.

"Mmmm," she sighed, stroking the demon's pure white hair. He returned the favor, freeing her eyes of the violet strands that had become matted on her forehead during the frenzy.

Fi laid her head down and grinned. The demon started to smile as he brushed his fingers down her cheek. She looked at his strong shoulders as he held himself above her, relishing the feel of his body against hers. With her legs wrapped firmly around him, she could feel everything he had to offer.

Warm, strong and muscular, he offered a lot. And he did it well.

Fi held his face. _"In all of my experience, I have never felt anything like this."_ She chuckled in spite of herself. Before tonight she never would have believed that her enemy's arms could feel so gratifying. Or safe.

"_Because you've never experienced a demon before," Ghirahim replied._ She couldn't seem to tire of his suave accent in her head. _"I want to keep holding you like this," he said._ He came down to kiss her again. _"I wish that this would never end."_

Fi was at risk of losing her breath all over again._ "I have enjoyed this…"_

"_Come with me," he said._ His tongue played with hers as he freely gave her his thoughts.

The exchange itself was pleasurable, as if every word stroked her before entering her mind. _"I would like to…"_

"_Then please do."_ The demon surprised her by lightly massaging her breast. She started to writhe, amazed that she wanted him a second time. How magnificent his touch felt.

An intense lovemaking session would normally leave her satiated. To her astonishment, however, she desired more. She grasped the back of his head, begging with her eyes.

"_Will you come with me?" he asked. "Will you stay with me?" _He pulled back just enough to bite her lip. She gave a little cry. "Will you marry me?" he asked aloud.

Fi stopped moving. All of a sudden, guilt was all she was able to feel—guilt for allowing this to take place.

Was this really happening? She looked down, viewing her naked body beneath the demon's.

"I… I don't know," she said with a stutter.

Ghirahim's face twisted with concern. "What do you mean?"

"I just…I'm empyrean, you're a demon… My home… Link." She felt shame wash over her. She could barely even speak.

The demon rose up, a look of discontent crossing his face. Fi quivered, suspecting that she may have to defend herself at any moment. Her palms tingled.

"Have you not made up your mind?" he asked. His voice was thick.

"I can't…" Fi started to say. "I just can't."

The demon eased away from her to recover his clothing. He dressed with a curious urgency. Fi watched with zealous eyes.

"You can't…" he repeated, slipping his boots on.

"I'm leaving," she said, covering herself with her cloak. "I've already made the commitment."

"Will you not reconsider?" the demon asked.

The shattered look on his face made her heart ache. She rubbed her forehead, feeling terrible that she had indulged in such pleasure, only to deny the one who had given it to her. "I don't know," was all she could say.

Fi understood Ghirahim's annoyed expression. Even she was annoyed—fed up with herself for not having the means to provide him with what he deserved.

But did he deserve anything good from her? Was she wrong to think that he did? What was she even doing? Being selfish? Foolish? Idiotic?

She reached her hand out, but he withdrew. He turned to look at the fire.

Silence took over as Fi struggled to find something to say. She looked down, knowing that her frank words to Link paled in comparison to the disappointment she'd just delivered to Ghirahim.

"I'm sorry," she added.

"I don't want your apology." The words were spoken through gritted teeth. He slowly turned his eyes back to Fi. "I want _you_."

She didn't know why she was having such trouble communicating. Perhaps it was how strange it felt to be at odds with someone who just minutes before had blown her mind.

_Analyze, think, say something helpful! _she told herself.

"If all you need is someone to marry," she said, "why not find a demoness? Anyone will do, correct?" The satisfaction she felt from her well-meaning suggestion faded as soon as she saw his face sour.

"What do you take me for?" he asked. "Do you honestly believe that I have not considered that option?"

"I… No," Fi said, sighing.

"Marriage is to be venerated like a god. It is final." He glanced away. "I do not wish to share it with anyone other than the one whom I have chosen."

"Chosen…" Fi muttered under her breath. "I'm honored, but—"

The demon moved to the door. He turned. "If you are honored, then perhaps you will change your mind. I believe you may regret it if you don't." He slipped out into the night without another sound.

Fi was alone again.

_Was that a threat?_ she thought.

She poked through the small chest by her bed. She pulled a loose linen shirt over her head, shocked by what she had just done. There was no getting around it—she felt awful.

She considered following the demon, but decided against it. What else could she possibly say? This evening had been incredible, but she couldn't go with him.

And what would Link do if he found out? Maybe she should go to him; be honest; discuss her concerns with him one more time.

_He's probably asleep_. She was short on sleep, herself, and even more exhausted after that little tryst... She laid down, her body still floating. Relaxing came easily this time, as did sleep.

The next thing she knew, the chirping and chittering of small creatures was dragging her from her slumber. Rubbing her eyes, she yawned. Sitting up, she noticed that Link's fire had completely gone out. Between that and the bright light coming through the door, she knew that she must have slept for hours.

She wasn't surprised. Unbridled passion could wear anyone out. As she dressed in her long robe, she rehashed last night's carnal activities in her mind.

Maybe it would turn out to be a dream. She grinned. Her arms and legs were entirely too sore. In addition, her abdominal muscles were burning. What other proof was needed?

Her growling stomach provided further evidence that she had exerted excessive energy. Or perhaps it was due more to her skipping dinner last night.

She shrugged. Real or imagined, she was not going to give herself over to the wiles of a demon ever again.

Wrapping her shoulders and stepping into her shoes, she entered the sunlight. Squinting, she combed her fingers through her hair. Glancing around, she surmised that the camp was most definitely uninhabited, save for a few people. Everyone had moved on, and she couldn't wait to do the same.

She could worry about her belongings later. The thought of packing bags right now didn't interest her. Neither did the idea of warming up a pot of water for her usual morning wash. Waking up Link sounded much more appealing. As dependable as that boy was, he was a heavy sleeper. Seeing him regularly in the mornings was something she very much looked forward to.

There was nothing like a brand new day. As she began making her way two rows over and fifteen tents down, everything that the demon had burdened her with the night before started to lift. She walked with a spring in her step. She was going to greet Link, speak what was on her heart, visit Skyview to request permission to leave the surface, and then go.

With him. Finally. She took a deep breath of wintery air.

She could already see the embers outside of his tent, coupled with a hint of smoke. She was sure that his tent must have been as comfortable as hers.

The sky through the thin cloud cover was a bright blue. Fi smiled, refreshed and enthusiastic. She passed a number of empty tents before sidling up to Link's and opening the flap.

"Good morning," she sang, kneeling down. Her smile fizzled.

An empty tent. "Odd…" she said. She observed his slept-in bed. Why he had never called for his own wool rug, being as high-ranking as he was, was beyond her.

Link had undoubtedly been here; not long ago, either. Fi stood and scanned the camp.

She spotted a solitary empyrean soldier one row over, bent over a large leather bag. "Have you seen Link?" Fi shouted to her. Straightening, the soldier saluted her captain, but shook her head.

Fi pursed her lips. He had to be nearby. Hylia's temple was a likely place, especially if he fancied a morning prayer.

But she soon discovered that the temple was as empty as his tent.

At once she walked to the mess hall, her pace gradually increasing. Not nearly as many soldiers occupied the area as the previous night. Fi interrupted their casual conversations to question each and every one of them. They all gave the same report: "I haven't seen him since yesterday."

Fi suddenly felt an iciness creep into her stomach. Ignoring her hunger, she set off northward to Skyview, calling his name the entire way. The two-mile walk never seemed so arduous.

The noise of the building site intensified as she navigated her way through the trees. Emerging, she looked up, floored by the towering walls of stone.

Men and women were everywhere. Some were on ladders; most were on the roof. Fi walked up the front steps, studying the fine details of the portico as she went. Pillars surrounded the outside of the temple. They were topped by a roof which sheltered the porch area.

The work that had been done here was astounding, but Fi was much too distracted to fully appreciate it.

The second she located Hylia, Fi slowed. Whispering a few confidence-boosting words to herself, she approached the divine woman.

Hylia sat under the portico, curled in the thickest fleece, her golden hair spilling down her back. Her golden harp lay in her hands. She was quietly overseeing the construction of her home. With nervousness that Fi hoped was imperceptible, she walked up to the Goddess Incarnate.

"Your Grace," Fi said with a bow.

Hylia turned to her. "Commander. Good morning." She smiled.

"The temple is breathtaking," Fi said.

"It is, indeed," Hylia said proudly. "I am quite blessed to have such talented and dedicated men and women." Her blue eyes dropped. "I believe they are more than ready to return home, however."

Fi nodded. "As am I, Your Grace," she noted, thankful for the segue. "Do I have your permission to leave my post at the Sealed Grounds?"

Hylia gave a knowing smile. "Certainly, Commander."

"Thank you," Fi said. She wanted to leave, but she stilled herself. "May I ask…" Hylia's gaze came back to her. "Have you seen…Link?"

The pale woman's eyes changed. "Link?"

"Yes. I wish to speak with him." Fi folded her hands. "I am not sure where he is."

"I spoke with him yesterday afternoon when the sun was setting," Hylia said.

"Was that the last time, Your Grace?" Fi asked.

"Yes. He did not return this morning. Was he planning to leave?"

"Not without me, Your Grace," Fi said softly.

Hylia nodded. "He has yet to go to the sky. No one can ascend without my assistance. He must be here."

"He has no reason to leave without warning. I fear he may be missing, Your Grace."

"Missing?" Hylia asked. "I would assume that if Link were to leave, it would be on his own volition."

Fi didn't respond at first. What was Hylia implying? "You aren't concerned, Your Grace?"

"No," she said.

"Has he notified you of…anything?" Fi asked, trying to keep a professional tone.

"No. However, I have already released him of his responsibilities. He has been free to go for weeks now. If he has chosen to leave, then he is not at fault."

"I am not sure that he has left by choice," Fi said, the worry in her voice beginning too show.

"If he was here yesterday, then I am confident that he is close by," Hylia said.

Fi was staggered by the woman's apparent calmness over the matter. Was Hylia privy to something that she wasn't?

"Do not fret for him," Hylia said kindly. "If he wishes to return, then he will."

The finality in Hylia's voice convinced Fi not to say any more. Still, authority did not equate to accuracy, even for the Goddess Reborn. Fi nodded, apologized for being bothersome, and left with little consolation.

Link was not at the camp, nor was he anywhere in Hylia's Realm from what Fi could tell. He did not appear to be at the newly built temple. He could not have gone to the sky, or even Empyrea; not without the help of Hylia or herself.

Was he hiding? Purposely avoiding her? Had she offended him that deeply with her advice to aid Hylia? Maybe he had taken her guidance to heart and didn't want to tell her. Perhaps Hylia knew this, and felt the same.

Fi couldn't picture her leader lying, though. Neither was Link the type to run away from a difficult situation.

He was still on the surface, but where? Maybe he was in the woods around the Sealed Grounds. Had he decided to head to the desert with the other humans? Had he gone to Lake Floria? None of these seemed likely, but they were possibilities.

Losing her appetite, Fi jogged back to her tent. She gathered a pair of leather gloves and a second cloak for warmth. She could be out all day, and Faron Field could get very windy and cold.

The path that led away from Hylia's Realm was long and vacant. Birds sang and the sun shined through the cloud cover, but Fi felt terribly alone. She called for Link several times, but received nothing in response other than the whistling of a frigid breeze.

Minutes came and went. The trees began to change as the Faron Woods gave way to open field. Standing on a hill, Fi saw several outcrops of trees dotting the landscape. She sighed, running her gaze from one side of the horizon to the other. Knowing Link and how fast he could move, he could be anywhere.

_If he's run to catch up with the group travelling to the desert… _The thought made Fi angry. Actually, it made her blood boil. If he had left without telling her, and he was perfectly fine…

Then again, what if he wasn't? The 'missing' theory popped back into her head.

"Link!" she shouted. Her voice echoed through the field. "Link!" She looked behind her, to the sides, and across the grassy expanse. She even looked up, wondering if he had somehow left this realm altogether.

Her eyes shot back down as a frightening thought came to her.

_The demon…_

Fi stared at the ground. "Din, what have I done?"

What if it was him? What if he had caused this? What if Link had entered the realm of the...demons?

Then it would have been her fault… Fi absentmindedly rubbed her chest, feeling guilty all over again. She should've gone to Link last night. Or maybe she should have gone with the demon.

Her eyes watered. She felt as helpless as she did hopeless.

As she started to run, she felt ridiculous. There was a good chance that she was simply being paranoid. Link could easily show up, chuckling and poking fun at her for making such a fuss over him.

The further she ran from Hylia's realm the more lost she felt. Could he really be out here? Maybe she should wait for him back at camp.

No… She couldn't sit idly and do nothing.

The outline of the sun could be seen traveling from east to west over the clouds. Morning turned to afternoon. Fi's voice was raspy from yelling. By nightfall, she could do nothing more than whisper.

The cold didn't help. Her lungs ached from it, and her throat burned. Through the darkness she wandered until she took shelter beneath some trees. She stumbled, careworn and half-blinded by lack of moonlight.

Wearied, she crawled to a tree trunk and leaned against it. Hugging her knees, she shivered. She was famished, thirsty and freezing.

She wrung her hands in frustration, having found not a single trace of the desert-bound humans and empyreans. She thought of Link, upset that her efforts had resulted in nothing.

"_Where are you?" _She opened her mind. _"Ghirahim?" _She heard nothing._ "Ghirahim?"_

Still nothing. Heavyhearted, she curled up on the ground, dozing off to disturbing images of Link in trouble, hurt or dead.

"Maybe I'm worrying over nothing," she breathed. She rapidly dropped into a restless sleep.

She dreamed of the demon. She could hear his voice and feel his touch. She wanted him near. She craved him.

"Ghirahim_," _she groaned in her sleep.

"_I am here."_

Fi awoke with a gasp.

With an empty but heavy body she rose. It was another day.

If she returned to Hylia's realm, maybe Link would be there, ready to erase all of her vexation with a smile.

Her head was as cloudy as the sky as she walked back east. She didn't know how many miles she had covered, nor did she care. The walkway through the woods led her back but offered little else.

She couldn't seem to get the demon out of her head. He wasn't speaking to her, yet all she could see was him. She felt like crying but swallowed back the urge.

She passed Hylia's temple. Nothing. She roamed through the camp. No one. She checked the mess hall. Not a soul. She started for Skyview.

"_You will not find him there."_

Fi's spent eyes came up.

"Ghirahim?" she called with a gravelly voice. Silence followed. "Where are you? Where is _he_? What's going on!" Still nothing. Tears finally fell as she gave in to her rage. Resentment welled up inside of her as she hugged herself.

An empyrean? A scholar? She certainly didn't feel like one right now. A failure and a coward was more like it. Had her selfishness led to this?

The demon knew something, and she was going to find out what it was.

Into the wilderness she went once more, but this time yelling more than one name.

Morning, to afternoon, to night. Over and over the sun came up and went down, yielding to bitter cold and darkness. Her dreams were dominated by the demon as she shivered under her cloak.

Every so often she would kneel beside a stream and drink. She prayed for help from the Goddesses. Why were they holding out on her?

Water sustained her but she needed more. She knew that eventually her thinning, semi-immortal body would succumb to starvation. She had to eat.

Still attempting to contact Ghirahim, Fi continued west.

She climbed a hill and surveyed the land. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? The edge of something, glistening and blue, stood out from its green surroundings. She thought for a moment.

"The Lanayru Sand Sea," she said, reminding herself that she wasn't crazy—yet. She focused though the blurriness. Yes, there was the shipyard and the mining facility. She had been there before, many years ago. There was the enormous Sandship, most likely still captained by Skipper—a rather nice robot. Very old, just like her. Many of his race knew Fi well, having fought beside her over the past year.

She stood atop the hill and observed the activity for several minutes. Perhaps they could help her somehow.

_Probably not, _she thought dismally. Not a scrap of food would be there. She would have to go fishing, but she was already so tired and weak. The idea of it made her lightheaded. They would most certainly help her, of course…

Amid her brooding, she sensed movement out of the corner of her eye. Heading north from the mining facility was a group of travelers. Fi's eyes widened.

Rejuvenated by the sight, she ran down the hill toward the migrating flock. There were at least a few dozen of them. Humans, empyreans—this was the group that was journeying to the desert.

She sprinted, screaming to them with every exhale. One after another, the members of the group stopped and turned.

Gathering around, they welcomed her.

"Have you seen Link? Is he with you?" Fi asked, panting.

The men and women exchanged looks. "No," several of them stated. More disappointed than ever, she thanked them and turned to go.

One woman barely had enough time to place a satchel in Fi's hands before she took off again. The sun was setting, and she was determined to cover as much of the Lanayru Province as she could before dark.

But it was useless. No one inhabited this part of the surface. The desert was further north. Fi couldn't fathom why anyone would want to live there besides the gorons.

Specks of white appeared before her, twirling in the wind. The first snowfall of the year. The flurry became heavier, covering the ground within an hour.

Once again she found herself curling up under a tree. She had grown accustomed to cold nights, but this night was positively frigid. She hadn't eaten in days and had lost weight, causing her to feel even colder.

She had to build a fire, but she had nothing with which to do it. She searched the bag she was given—meat that had been hunted by one of the men, and bread. No flint or anything of the sort. She should have asked…

Fi dug around in the snow for a suitable piece of wood, a stick and some leaves. After finding what she needed, she located a rock, carved a groove into the wood, crushed the dead leaves onto it and began to grudgingly build a friction fire. She rubbed her numb hands together and spun the stick into the groove as fast as she could. She tried to direct her tears of anger away from her pathetic attempt at wilderness survival.

She kneaded her forehead as her face scrunched in anguish.

Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder.


	32. Send Her My Love: Part Four

**WARNING: Disturbing torture scene in this chapter. The whole chapter's rather angsty, actually, so tread carefully if you are triggered by such things. **

Notes: _Demon language = some sort of mix of Latin and Klingon *shrug*._

_The notion of colors representing different emotions was inspired by *While the Stars Burn* by RedheadedMarina. _

_This chapter is separated into two parts. The second part is concurrent with Fi's trip to the sky._

Chapter 32

Send Her My Love: Part Four

A light touch was all Fi needed to know who was behind her.

She gave up on the fire, allowing all of her materials to fall from her grasp. She tilted her head over her shoulder to see a gloved hand. She shut her tired eyes, adoring its feel.

She didn't move a muscle as the figure came around and knelt in front of her.

When she opened her eyes, she was not surprised to find an intent expression. Two deep brown eyes, pale skin, and long hair as white as the snow that was falling. He had an armful of kindling.

Keeping his eyes on her, he cleared the area beside them of snow and placed the firewood into it before picking up what Fi had dropped. He rebuilt what had come apart, put the stick where it belonged and started twisting it in his hands.

Fi looked down, watching the demon stooped. She observed as he concentrated, bearing down on the wood as he repeatedly spun the stick in his hands.

After several minutes of hard work, smoke began to rise. It started as small as a wisp of warm breath and grew until it was pouring into the air.

A spark ignited in the dry leaves. The demon scooped the pile in his hands and blew carefully, cradling the tinder.

Fi suddenly felt driven to reach for him. She wanted to touch him, but she made herself wait.

With flames rising in his hands, he gingerly sat the newborn fire on top of the larger pile, blowing until the wood beneath began to catch.

Eventually, the forest around them was aglow with a soft orange. Fi sat across from the demon, watching him closely. His eyes remained on what he had built.

She leaned to the side and waited for his reaction. He didn't move. She started crawling around the fire. The demon's gaze followed her.

She stopped next to him. He gave her a dry stare.

Questions waited on the tip of her tongue—where did you come from? Why are you here? Where is Link? But somehow her desire to embrace him was stronger than her need for answers.

She came forward for a kiss, but the demon backed away. Fi questioned him with her eyes.

She didn't know why but she had to touch him. She took his hand. He seemed to petrify. She took his face and moved his mouth to hers. She hesitated as she surveyed his lips, ignoring the uncertain look in his eye. Her eyes shut as she brushed her nose against his. Pleased that he seemed to share in her yearning, she pulled him in.

"No," he said, sounding as if he hadn't spoken for days. Fi retracted. "That's not what I came here for."

"Then why did you?" Fi asked.

"You've been out here for so long," Ghirahim said, looking at the fire. "I wanted to…make sure you were all right." He removed a small bag from one of his pockets and handed it to her.

"What is it?"

"Something to eat," he said.

"Oh. How…long have I been out here?"

"Twenty days," Ghirahim said. His tone suggested he'd been keeping track.

Fi didn't know whether to believe him or not. As gaunt as her face had been the last time she checked her reflection, however, it was difficult to deny his claim.

"Twenty days? You've been following me?"

"Keeping watch over you."

"I've been calling for you, but you haven't responded," she said. The demon nodded. "Why?"

"It would just make it worse for you."

"Worse?" Fi asked. "What I wanted was your help. Why didn't you answer?"

"Because you haven't changed your mind about leaving."

"You would rather me wander uselessly in the cold?"

The demon shook his head. "The more you open yourself up to me, the more dependent you will become. And if you will not come with me…"

Fi knew what he meant. "You're concerned for me? Is that why you followed me?" The demon nodded and looked at the fire again.

Fi closed in and drew the demons eyes up with her own. She scoured every facial feature. She saw much more than concern.

"You're feeling guilty," she said distantly. The demon didn't respond. "You're not merely concerned for me, but you're guilt-ridden. It's all over your face. _That_ is why you're here." The way the demon looked down was proof in itself. "Where is he?"

The demon briefly glanced around, avoiding her.

"Where is he?" Fi asked again, this time demanding. Her hand clawed into his.

Ghirahim sighed. "I told him that if he didn't leave you alone, I would kill him."

"You what?" she asked, her cheeks turning pink. The demon turned toward the darkness. "But… Link runs from no one." She glowered at him. "Why would he listen to you? Why would he be afraid?"

"He wasn't," Ghirahim said. "So I threatened to kill you, instead."

Fi gaped for several seconds, at a total loss. Her body started to blaze along with the fire next to her. "That doesn't matter," she muttered harshly. The demon didn't look at her. "Link has the sword of the Goddesses. The blade of evil's bane. He fears no enemy."

"Its power is gone," Ghirahim said, almost sounding regretful. Fi stopped breathing. "With my king locked away, its purpose has been fulfilled. It is no longer a threat."

"That can't be true," Fi said in a half-whisper. She thought for a moment. "Where is he? Where is this _unserviceable_ sword?"

"The blade is in the forest. He has abandoned it."

"Why would he do that?"

"He has been ordered to leave it there," the demon said.

"By whom?"

"By your very own leader."

"Hylia?" Fi asked. Ghirahim looked away, obviously holding back a sneer. "Why would she have him leave it in the woods?"

"Perhaps it is being preserved for a future mission," the demon said with a sarcastic undertone.

Fi scowled. "Why wasn't I informed of this?"

"Maybe it is none of your business," the demon said.

Fi seethed for a moment, angry that the demon lacked the decency to look at her. "Unlike myself, you seem to be well-informed." Ghirahim's eyes shifted. "So where is he?" He didn't answer. "Even with no Master Sword, Link wouldn't fear you. There is more going on here than what you say." She paused, giving the demon a chance to talk. "Have you taken him somewhere?" Ghirahim continued to gaze into the dark. "Is he dead?" The demon looked at his hands. "You at least owe it to me to tell me if you've killed him."

Ghirahim pulled his hand away. "No. He is alive."

Fi held her chest. "Where?" Her voice cracked. The demon shook his head and stood up.

"Will you not reconsider?" He looked down on her out of the corner of his eye.

"You are arrogant," Fi said. The demon's expression didn't change. "You are supercilious. How dare you assume that I would change my mind after what you've done."

"I was simply trying to eliminate what holds you back. Not do harm to someone who will never lift a weapon against me again."

"He is the Goddess's hero," Fi said, standing. "He helped to defeat your king."

"I leave my grudges on the battlefield," the demon replied.

Fi scoffed. "Not this time, you didn't." She stepped in front of him. "And I would rather search the surface for eternity than be with…"

His cross stare stopped her short. The closeness of his body almost made her forget what she was upset about. Almost, but not quite.

A gust of wind sent snowflakes fluttering around them. Fi shuddered. She suspected that she may never get used to the cold. Maybe she wouldn't have to if she could take the truth from the demon's mind. If he was reluctant to admit it, then that's what she would have to do.

But his mind was closed, and she had no way of infiltrating it from this distance. There was only one way to break through. "Perhaps…I will go with you," she said softly.

With the wind catching his hair, the demon stared. His body was askew.

Fi knew that he was ready to leave. "I so enjoyed our night together, that I can't see myself content if…" She lifted her face. "If I can never have that again."

The demon faced her head on. Fi tried to read him. She took hold of his arms.

Knowing that too much thinking could cost her valuable information, Fi made her move, wrapping her arms around the demon's neck and kissing him, waiting until just the right moment to slip her tongue in his mouth. _"I'm sorry I insulted you. I didn't mean it," she told him._

Ghirahim was not as responsive as she'd hoped. His eyes were open and untrusting. He wasn't hugging her back. Maybe he didn't believe her. All she saw in his head was a wall.

She closed most of her mind while projecting what she wanted him to see. She needed him to open up, to let down that barricade.

He tasted so good, and he was so warm. The feeling she got from pressing herself against him was incredible. It reminded her of their time together in her tent, by the fire.

She considered allowing it to happen again, right there in the snow. She had been craving this.

But she needed to concentrate. That was her top priority. She needed to know what he knew to get Link back. But what was wrong with mixing business with a little pleasure?

What was she thinking? That wasn't right. She needed to focus or her true intentions would be found out.

Staying centered was key. To be too closed-off would give her away, as would being too open. She had to strike a delicate balance.

Appealing to his sexual desires seemed the smartest option. _"Lay with me again?" she asked._ But he was hesitant and guarded. She needed him as relaxed and distracted as possible.

What better way to achieve that than to repay him for what he'd been so gracious to give her that night?

Boldly, she told him in detail what she wanted to do. As she described the act, she caught a fleeting visual of Link. He appeared unspoiled but she didn't know where he was. He seemed discontent, as if he was suffering from a nagging ailment.

Thirsty for more answers, Fi strengthened the kiss, giving the demon's long tongue a preview of what she planned to do elsewhere.

Soon, his thoughts would be hers for the taking.

The cold seemed to melt away as Fi made an unhurried descent from the demon's mouth, to his chest, and beyond. As she kissed his stomach, she slowed, seeing a sword in a stone pedestal and Link sitting in a dark place with his face in his hands.

_No, _ she thought. The demon looked down at her. She quickly lowered to her knees and started unfastening whatever buckle and button she could find around his waist.

She was sad and troubled for Link, but this felt so fulfilling. It felt right, as if she belonged here, on the ground and ready to please her master.

Master? Why had master popped into her head?

Fi then felt the hair on the very top of her head gripped and pulled. She gasped and reached up as she was hauled to her feet. In pain and tearing up, she looked the demon in the face. He was somber and stern. "You're a liar, woman," he said, his voice tight. He flung her head back. She immediately rubbed her scalp, stunned.

The way that he was glaring at her made her think he was going to strike her; or, at the very least, that he really wanted to strike her. Her palms lit, forming small halos in the dark. She stepped back, prepared for anything.

But the demon's face loosened, yielding to a more apologetic look. Floored, Fi watched as he pivoted. "Wait!" she called.

Facing away, Ghirahim looked to the side. "You were right about one thing."

Fi took a step. "About what?"

"I do feel guilty," the demon said. "I would have waited for the human to live out his life before pursuing you, but my time had run out." Fi stood in awe. "It was not my intention for this to progress as far as it has." He turned away. "I am…sorry." The words seemed to stick in his mouth, not wanting to be heard. He started making his way toward the plain beyond the trees.

"Will you release him?" Fi asked as he walked further away. "Please…"

The demon's feet slowed. "Even if I did, he wouldn't return to you. Not now." He continued on.

Fi swallowed. Her throat tightened as Ghirahim receded into the night.

He stopped. "He wanted you to know…"

Fi bounced a bit. "Yes?"

The demon stood as still as stone for a moment. Fi's ears perked up. "He sends his love."

In a few seconds the demon was out of sight, and Fi was alone again. She curled up next to the fire, ignoring the snow and daydreaming.

She didn't sleep that night. The picture of Link haunted her.

If only she had just left him alone; allowed him to go to Hylia where he belonged. None of this would have happened. Who knew where he was?

And it was all her fault.

After hours of ruminating, Fi saw the sunrise. With two bags of food in tow, she started back east. She slowly nibbled, knowing how undeserving she was of a privilege such as eating.

Under a grey sky and with footprints marking how far she had come, she walked for days. Accompanied only by the rumble of a few distant herds of horses, she stopped to sleep. With a mind unwilling to settle, rest would not come.

The demon still dominated her thoughts. Her need for him developed until she felt she was at the end of her tether with desire. In spite of everything, she tried contacting him again. She heard nothing.

When he had told her that she would regret not leaving with him, it was not a threat, but a fact—she would not only be dragged down by obsession, but by the culpability for Link's capture.

_He sends his love,_ Fi thought over and over. _He sends his love…_

She heard nothing, and she had nothing. Nothing with Ghirahim, nothing with Link, and nothing with herself. She couldn't return to Empyrea. She couldn't stay on the surface. Braving the demon realm would eventually be the death of her.

Tears came and went as she entered Faron Field. Coming upon the footpath leading to Hylia's realm, she hugged herself, sobbing.

One would think that such an advanced age would result in wisdom unparalleled, so much so that heartache of this caliber wouldn't occur. But Fi found the opposite to be true. All of her years of education, research and introspection only magnified her suffering. It was unquestionable how terrible of a mistake she had made. She knew it, and she knew it very well. And the loss was too much to bear.

By the time she made it to the Skyview Temple she was distraught and tripping over her own feet. She fell before Hylia, and in her arms confessed everything she had done. Moved by compassion, Hylia left the temple to transport her to Skyloft.

Fi was in such a teary haze that she didn't know how she had arrived in the sky. Worn out from weeping, she was led by the hand to a huge monument. The entrance was tucked away and hidden, out of sight and unnoticed by the few humans who lived on the main island.

Fi's sniffling echoed off the walls of the small chamber. She looked around, finding what she supposed were everlasting torches. With a placid glow, the room was comforting.

Her gaze rested on a structure in the chamber's center: a pedestal similar to the one she had had a vision of in the woods. This one, however, contained not the Master Sword, but the Goddess Sword—the weapon wielded by Hylia during the war.

"I did not believe that this subject would be addressed in my lifetime," Hylia said, looking at the blade. "I assumed that someone else holding a position in the Divine Counsel, perhaps centuries from now, would have had the honor of presenting this opportunity to you." The woman seemed pleased, yet glum.

Beginning to feel refreshed in this new place, Fi wiped her tears away. "What do you mean, Your Grace?"

"In prayer I learned that you had been selected as the guardian of this sword," Hylia said.

"Guardian, Your Grace?"

Hylia nodded. "In three millennia, this blade will serve a young man chosen by the Goddesses. A hero spoken about in what they will know as the 'sacred texts'. These texts will speak of the war, Demise, the hero that you and I have come to know…" Her blue eyes lowered. "History will be recorded for the people of this realm, yet they will doubt." She looked at Fi. "This new hero of prophecy will need you to guide him."

Still shaky and emotional, Fi looked at the sword. "But…_how, _Your Grace?"

"You will be given the knowledge that you need," Hylia said. "This weapon must be watched vigilantly. It is imperative that it remain untouched until the hero is summoned."

"Who will summon him, Your Grace?"

Hylia grinned. "You, of course."

"Me?" Fi looked herself over, realizing how bedraggled and filthy she was. "How will I make sure this sword stays in place for three millennia? Three thousand years is…a long time. Even for an empyrean." She gave a wary look.

"You will know what to do," Hylia assured her.

"Will I be able to leave here?"

"You must stay with the weapon at all times."

"At all times?" Fi asked.

"Yes." Hylia's face turned serious. "You will be bound to it."

"Bound…?" Fi's voice faded. She was reminded of what the demon had said about his responsibility to his king.

"Yes," Hylia said. "It is a commitment. A permanent one. One that was not necessary to initiate right away, but…" Fi waited. "It has become necessary."

Fi knew what the woman was implying. She looked at the sword, ashamed.

"You will rest inside of this blade," Hylia said. "You will alternate between wakefulness and sleep for thousands of years, just as you normally would." She nodded. "But this is too long for anyone to endure confinement, even without a burdened mind."

"Can I not just sleep the entire time?" Fi asked, finding solace in the prospect.

"You must remain sentient to protect the sword," Hylia said. "And besides that…" She held her hands behind her back. "Your…_problems_…" Fi had never heard such halting words from the woman. "...Will be waiting for you as soon as you wake." Fi was looked firmly in the eye. "How can you be expected to assist the hero of the future if your heart is trapped in the past? If the enemy that you will face still has your love?" Fi's stomach flipped. "If the young man in green rekindles that which has no place in the life of a sword spirit?"

_Sword spirit?_

Fi crossed her arms, suddenly feeling cold. "If I must spend the centuries awake, yet it is too difficult…" She pondered for a moment. "What will I do?"

"I am prepared to help you," Hylia said, moving nearer. "With your permission, I will ensure that you will have the means to complete your task."

"How, Your Grace?"

"By removing what tortures you," Hylia said. "By containing your sentiment in such a way that it no longer causes you pain."

Fi shook her head. "Your Grace?"

"You will no longer have the use of your emotions," Hylia explained. "Without them, you will be wholly objective. Your feelings and the sorrow which they cause will be unable to hinder you."

The idea was terrifying. Fi looked down despondently. "What will become of me without my emotions? I will be…lifeless." She shook her head. "How will I function?"

"Much more peacefully than you do now," Hylia said. "Your condition will be temporary. You will regain what makes you _you,_ one day." She folded her hands in front of her. "As long as the mission is successful, and you survive."

"Whether or not I get my heart back is contingent upon my success?" Fi asked. Still raw with sadness, she rubbed her forehead, feeling another bout of tears readying itself.

Hylia placed a hand on her shoulder. "It will be fine. The Goddesses would not have chosen you unless they had complete confidence in you." Tears dripped down Fi's face as Hylia leaned in. "Perhaps this is one of the reasons why the Goddesses chose you—to help you through this."

Fi nodded, quick to accept the wise words. What else did she have?

Hylia's arm came down. "We await your consent."

"I don't have to do this?" Fi asked, sniffing.

Hylia shook her head. "The Goddesses cannot force you. If you choose not to, they will select someone else."

There was no need for that. Fi had no purpose here other than to wallow in self-pity. She looked away. "I will do it," she said flatly. Hylia nodded. "But I need to know that…Link will be all right." Her voice dropped off.

Hylia looked at her sadly. "I cannot guarantee that. But he is the bearer of courage. And what is meant to happen _will_." Her positive words drew Fi's gaze. "Do not forget that."

Fi sighed. "I won't forget."

"Are you ready?" Hylia asked.

_The sooner the better… _"Yes."

Hylia laid a hand atop Fi's head. Straightaway, the empyrean felt warm. "On behalf of Din, Nayru and Farore, thank you, Commander," Hylia said.

With a new sense of peace, Fi sighed. "I am honored."

Hylia shut her eyes and concentrated. Her lips moved in silent prayer. Hushed and awed, Fi observed. Lightheadedness overtook her. Ghirahim and Link came to mind.

"May you think no more on these matters," Hylia said. "Your memory of these past days will be removed during your rest here. You will regain them later. This will leave your mind more open to the Goddesses."

"Yes," Fi acknowledged.

Colors floated before her eyes before moving away—pitch black for anger, milky beige for guilt and shame, sunny orange for joy, rosy pink for love, pale blue for sadness, deep red for desire, chartreuse for fear, rusty green for envy, aqua for apprehension…

Aggression, contempt and optimism. Remorse, disapproval and contentment. As each feeling left one by one, Fi felt more serene and calm.

But soon even serenity and calmness left her, leaving her with a vast blankness. There was no loathing with which to direct at the Goddesses for subjecting her to this, nor was there fear to accompany her new state. Best of all, there was no regret.

There was simply nothing. All she had were her thoughts, partnered with a lack of feelings to go with them.

A divine light shined and a strong wind blew around her. A force pulled her arms up. She watched as her tattered clothing transformed into a new, flawless garment. Blue and purple, violet and amethyst. She shut her eyes as soft fabric brushed her skin. When she looked at Hylia, her eyes changed, becoming monochromatic. She peered down to see a sapphire-hued diamond on her chest, a cloak and a short dress. The diamond motif was continued on her lower half in the form of leggings. She took note of it.

"How do you feel, Captain?" Hylia asked, appearing worried.

"I am fine," Fi said, her voice sounding and feeling different. It was light and flittering; almost musical. She took note of that, as well.

"Amazing," Hylia said, looking over the rebirthed empyrean.

"By my calculations…" Fi cocked her head in thought. "Your heartbeat has reached one-hundred-and-twenty beats per minute."

Hylia touched her fingers to her chest. "Amazing," she said again.

Fi glanced around, discovering that she had the ability to analyze everything in the room, from the temperature of the fire to the age of the stone that made up the monument.

Scanning her own body, she found a beating heart, along with all of her other bodily organs, but her corporeal needs weren't there. They hadn't been taken, but put on hold; similar to her emotions.

No longer semi-immortal, she was immortal, divine in a truer sense than the Goddess Reborn. Yet she could sense that her fate was tied to the sword. She knew that she had to be near it or she would wither. She took note of that, too.

"Over time, the Goddesses will impart more and more knowledge to you," Hylia said, her eyes widening at the sight of Fi hovering a few inches from the ground. "Simple facts, verbatim verse from the future sacred texts—it will all be used to aid the hero."

Fi listened carefully, absorbing every sight and sound and adding them to her memory bank.

"You will not be entirely alone in your confinement," Hylia said. "As I have stated, the Goddesses will be in contact with you. I, myself, will visit you for as long as I am able. When I pass away and the portion of Hylia's spirit which resides in me returns to the heavenly realm, communication will carry on."

Fi studied the shorter woman for a moment. "Do not be sad for me, Your Grace." Hylia looked at her feet. "I am fine."

Reading a mixture of emotions from her, Fi listened to Hylia's soft goodbye and observed her hasty departure. The boulder that had been blocking the monument's entrance was rolled back into place, leaving Fi with only the dim firelight.

After a thorough analysis of every object in the chamber, Fi entered the sword, paying attention to the way that her vision and mobility changed as her physical form gave way to her spiritual body. No more than a ball of light, Fi nestled inside the walls of the sword. It was spacious and cushioned.

Why was the phrase, 'Give my love to her', stuck in her head? She thought about it. It must have held some sort of significance. She dissected the sentence and reworded it repeatedly—give her my love, send my love to her, send her my love, deliver to her the knowledge that I love her, relay the message, 'I love you', I love her and never had a chance to say it so please tell her for me…

But she couldn't figure it out. She supposed that someone had said it to her.

She shut her eyes and slept. Truly slept. She couldn't recall what had drained her of so much energy.

Time had no meaning in the sword. She heard the voices of the Goddesses often. Sometimes she would hear a low, smooth voice speaking of things that she knew very little about. She recognized Demise and Link, however. She didn't know if the images of the young blond human being defiled in unspeakable ways were real or not. It was unfortunate if they were.

The flow of information was continuous, and before she knew it, she was reaching out to the human spoken about in his own sacred text. To begin their communications, she chose the avenue of a dream. Soon, she was reciting, "Come. You must take up this sword. As the one chosen by my creator, it is your destiny."

….

"_Chtelektush, uxor vae Fi velox charretch…"_

How quiet these woods had become. Had they always been this quiet? It was maddening; so much so that he almost suspected that he had stumbled into the Wood of Suicides. Or perhaps the Forest of Nightmares. He came to a stop.

This was it.

The demon wiped his sweaty brow. _"Qraktatch gretch khalarr…" _Panting, he pulled his hand furiously across his forehead before walking on. He stopped, holding a hand to his face.

This feeling… _"Proktch vae marr pravikchtar."_ There was just nothing else like it.

His heart. He clutched his chest. The pounding from within it blasted in his head. He was nearly blinded by it. It was like everything was caving in on him. He took another step.

He had never been so nervous in his life. Pushing through the brush, he covered his face. The lucent moonlight, barely enough for any surface dweller to see by with the cloud cover, abraded his eyes. It was garish.

Discovering a tree beside him, he leaned over, slamming a shoulder into it. His heartbeat was racing. He felt hot and cold at the same time. His hands were shaking—

Shameful. "Prliqtash," he spat. Burying his fingers in his hair, he wrung it until his eyes watered.

With a sigh, he took another step.

The edge of the forest was coming up fast. He hesitated. To emerge was to deliver himself into a strait—a situation with only one in and no out. A double bind if he ever saw one.

A promise of glory that he never believed he could achieve for the sacrifice of his freedom. If he could only relinquish his autonomy he would gain something inconceivable. Exactly what he would get, however, was as murky as Leviathan's Lake and as easy to make sense of as the Ruins of Beezlegrond.

He was so out of breath. He wiped his face again.

How pitiful it would be to faint at the foot of one's king.

It was because he had been traversing the surface for days without eating. That's what it was. He was a captain in the army of the demon tribe. A man accustomed to severity and warfare. The air was just…different here. Nothing at all like that of the demon realm. Here it was so humid, and—

"_Lex legis,_ _Captain_ _Ghirahim."_

The demon gasped. There was the voice again. The voice that he knew well.

He didn't dare lean against the tree any longer. He walked briskly for the clearing.

So much regret.

Ignoring the moonlight, he focused on the huge circle of torches which lay in front of him. How ironic it was…

"_Iumentchum, Ghirahim."_

...That their purpose was to prevent anyone from falling into the chasm…

"_Iubeo, Captain."_

...And now…

"_Iucundus iubeo."_

...They were leading him straight into it.

The path to the very bottom of the Sealed Grounds led round, coiling like a serpent. Ghirahim walked down slowly. He knew he should be moving faster but he just couldn't.

"_Rochtqarr," _Ghirahim mumbled. He had been so close. _So_ close. And she had been so exorable…so pliant. Never before had a female been so influenced by him.

Not that he would have taken advantage of that. He could have given her paradise. He would have.

"_Infinitus_," he said with a sigh.

Was it because he couldn't give her children, and the human could? He had failed to search her thoughts for such a desire. Looking at his sluggish feet, he shook his head.

He would have satisfied her so thoroughly for all of her days that she wouldn't have worried about such frivolities.

It was so dark down here. And as a demon, he knew dark.

He looked up. The torches were burning high above him now. He looked to the center of the pit where he had been told to come.

He had walked down three levels. Just one remained.

He held his hand against the wall of soil, scraping bits of it off as he walked.

He circled once more, keeping his eyes on what lay at the bottom.

At last, he touched down onto flat ground. He held his breath.

He was being summoned to the very middle, so he complied. A light began to radiate.

The moment he set foot into the light, an enormous form materialized. Ghirahim gaped at it, dumbfounded.

"_Rex rgis_… My king." The demon stepped back and bent down, crossing an arm over his chest. He slowly straightened. His hands dropped to his sides.

Silent and tense, he fought to look his king in the face. Before, Demise was intimidating. Now, he was terrifying. He was glowing. His face was raging. And the fire…

Ghirahim had been in Demise's presence so many times before. But then, he had kept a low profile; laid low. He had taken orders but never spoke directly to the daunting man. He'd never had to before. His king had little need for communication.

Ghirahim's whole body was trembling and his breathing seemed so loud to him. Yet his king was so still, calm, and serene. His uncanny ability to sense fear seemed more prominent now.

"Raise your eyes," the hulking man said. Flinching, Ghirahim did as he was told.

His king looked the same, but much fiercer. His sharp eyes were even sharper. His large features seemed even more menacing. His severe, angular face stared back at the demon so sternly that he could barely follow his orders.

"Do you pledge your loyalty to me?" Demise asked, his voice bellowing in Ghirahim's ears.

The demon peered at the light beneath his feet for a moment. "I…already have, my king."

"No. Not as my soldier." Demise stood up taller. Ghirahim watched as he seemed to grow before him. "As _mine_."

Ghirahim's eyes jumped back and forth, studying his king's face. "Y-yours?" he stammered.

"Yes."

It wasn't a question. It was a demand. One that could not be evaded. He'd known this was coming. He breathed, torn and confused—

But with an intense need to obey. This was his king whom he had served for as long as memory had served _him_.

Nothing stood in his way now. Nothing lay between him and his king. The one obstacle that he had hoped would construct itself hadn't gone beyond a foundation, so he was on his own.

He dropped his head. "Yes, I pledge my loyalty." When his king's heavy hand settled on his shoulder, he gave a frightened grunt. His head snapped up to meet his king's gaze.

Demise smiled in return. Ghirahim shrank under his touch. He looked on as his king's other hand came up to hold the top of his head.

With the heft of his king's arm weighing him down, Ghirahim stared at his dark, flowing garment. He wanted to ask what he was doing, why he was touching him, what was going on—

But a feeling of being shredded suddenly blasted through him. He gasped, in such agony that he was unable to speak. The light around him brightened, adding to his pain.

Everything burned and ached at once as his surroundings faded.

The pain slowly dissolved as dizziness set in. He needed something to hold on to. He reached for Demise, but the man grabbed his wrist. Ghirahim stared as the powerful hand encased his. He felt tiny.

He was so engrossed in the feeling of his king's hands on him that it took a moment to notice that the Sealed Grounds had vanished. Stone stretched out beneath him. As soon as Demise's hands released his head and arm, the demon looked up.

His king stood stiffly, appearing pleased. Breaking his eyes away, Ghirahim glanced at the small room. Grey, dark and cold. A thick chain ran from one of the walls to where he stood. It was nearly obscured by Demise's long robe, but Ghirahim could tell that it was connected to the man's ankle.

Panic started to well up in him. He felt that same chill again as he searched the room a second time—four walls, low ceiling, no windows. The only object was the chain holding his king.

Ghirahim had no idea what realm he was in, but one thing was certain—he had been transported to a prison.

The demon's jaw tensed. This was where Hylia had sent Demise after he had lost the final battle. This was where he had been sealed; in a jail, like a common criminal.

Ghirahim took a deep breath. Even if the enormous body of his king wasn't towering over him he would still have felt claustrophobic in this box of a room.

"In the surface realm…" Demise's imposing voice roused the demon from his thoughts. "It is not a chain, but a spike." Ghirahim listened quietly. "I cannot maintain this form on the surface."

After several silent seconds of looking at him, Ghirahim looked down. He wasn't sure what to do.

"_At ease,"_ the demon heard in his head. The words were cordial but the tone was punitive. Ghirahim looked up. Perhaps he should speak.

"Is that why you…brought me here, my king?" he asked. Somehow, the nod that he received relaxed him a bit.

"I may be here for millennia," Demise said gruffly. "Therefore, I require the services of one who is free. Free to roam beyond the confines of this place. Free to carry out my will."

Ghirahim had never heard his king say so many words at once. "I understand."

"Work must be done," Demise continued. "Centuries-worth."

Ghirahim looked down at the chain, already feeling the burden. "Yes… Anything," he said, keeping his head low.

"Good."

There was something about the way his king said that which made Ghirahim want to disappear. "Why me…?" His voice was meek.

"Because you have rare talents," Demise said. "A talent for superior telepathic connections. Talent with a blade and with magic." He paused. "A talent for speaking; for _influence_." He seemed the most excited about the last one. Ghirahim nodded his thanks. "You will be seminal. You will be my dignitary."

Ghirahim felt a spark of pride. Maybe this wasn't such a bad thing, after all.

"Your talents will be made greater through me," Demise said. He lifted an arm, squeezing a fist with fervency and passion. "So _powerful_ you will be in my name."

Ghirahim just stared. His king was fearsome and inspiring.

Demise's huge hands came up again. They wrapped so strongly around the sides of the demon's face and the back of his head that he had only one second to recoil.

He didn't fight for long. His king's embrace was all-encompassing, and while chilling, was comforting in a way. The demon stopped moving, and instead rested his hands on the man's forearms.

This couldn't possibly be happening. He wasn't being held by his king like this. He shut his eyes and breathed, and for a moment, he felt special.

Demise tightened his hold, staring the demon in the eyes. _"With my favor you will be invincible, never having to fear death. Not until the day when the blade of prophecy is at last reforged." _Ghirahim breathed in the words. Warmth filled him from his extremities to his core. _"You will be a weapon. My weapon." _Ghirahim's head rocked back as he opened his eyes. _"With you I will win back what I have lost. I will have my vengeance against this wretched human race."_

Ghirahim felt himself burn with the anger of his king. Their eyes latched together.

"_As sharp and deadly as a diamond blade." _ Demise looked the demon over as if he was searching for something. His eyes were hungry, and Ghirahim let himself be taken in. _"Are you ready for a partnership with your king?"_

Partnership… The demon sighed, enchanted and grateful. _"Yes."_ Demise turned the demon's head to the right. His mouth opened a bit as his loose hair was tucked behind his left ear. He took a nervous breath.

A metallic ring sounded. Ghirahim immediately tried to face the source of the noise but was stopped by a strong hand on his neck. His eyes burst open as he viewed Demise's satisfied face.

Ghirahim gaped silently as his head was turned further to expose his ear. As he felt a knife press below the tip of it, he gasped. "My king!" His heart pounded.

But all he heard was a small chuckle. His hands flew to Demise's arm just as he felt the bite of the blade. Ghirahim pulled down but his strength was nothing in comparison to the larger man's. His body twisted as he gave a pained cry, feeling every inch of the knife as it sliced through his skin. A shaking, shrill breath rushed into him as he stared into Demise's face. His face scrunched and he gritted his teeth as the knife was driven all the way through, forcing another shout from him.

Teetering under Demise's hand, Ghirahim clutched his ear, tears streaming from his eyes. Breathing hard and holding back his disgraceful groans, he looked up, angry and slumped over.

"Let this be a reminder of whom you belong to, always," Demise said.

Ghirahim's face softened. His hand shook uncontrollably as he examined his ear. The top of it was gone.

It was on fire. He'd never felt anything so painful. All he could do was shut his eyes and breathe.

To him, partnership meant equality. He suddenly realized that his king's definition was much different than his own.

It was awful. One moment the man's hands were kind, and the next they were branding him.

Through the hot pulsations Ghirahim noticed the absence of blood. He checked his hand to make sure.

"I told you you would be invincible," Demise said with a smile. Astonished, the demon looked him in the eye again. He saw Demise's gaze drop to his chest. "Remove it."

Ghirahim froze, his trembling hand still gripping the side of his head. He looked down. "Sir?"

"Your armor."

"My armor…" the demon mouthed. The tears began to dry, making his skin feel tight.

He had to do it. If he didn't, his king would just take it from him.

To remove one's armor during battle meant death. This was no different. The leather and iron seemed to stick stubbornly to him as he removed them, leaving nothing on the upper half of his body.

He stood before his king, unclothed and untrusting. Amazingly, the pain in his ear had already begun to dull. He rubbed it.

Leisurely, Demise drew a short rapier from the air. Not moving, the demon looked back and forth between the man's face and his hand, horrified.

He glanced to the side. There was no escape.

Demise took a step forward, so Ghirahim took a step back. His nearly pain-free ear did little to console him as he moved away.

He was watching Demise's feet so intently that his collision with the wall took him completely by surprise. His head hit the stone with a thunk. He closed his eyes and tightened up as the alarming sensation of being bound came to him for the first time.

When Demise stepped back, Ghirahim didn't bother pulling on his restraints. The taller man looked down on him with an odd, disconcerting look. Unable to take the malicious smirk any longer, the demon looked away. He saw that his outstretched arms were wrapped in the same chain which constrained his king.

"Do I have your full submission?" Demise asked, fingering the hilt of the rapier.

Ghirahim looked down. Control was leaving him; the control that a soldier was incomplete without.

"Do you understand that you are mine, and no one else's?" Demise asked, moving closer.

The demon's thoughts drifted toward Fi. "No one else's," he affirmed.

"My best fighter. The preeminent warrior." He urged the demon to look him in the face. "Together, ultimate victory will be achieved."

His king's face filled his field of vision. As if freshly sheltered from a storm, the demon loosened, returning his king's affectionate gaze in kind.

Then pain exploded in his chest. He threw his head against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut and bending over. Unable to take in a full breath, he opened his eyes, shocked to see that half of the rapier was embedded in his chest.

With thought after thought warring for supremacy in his head, he was shoved violently back. He writhed, pulling against his chains.

His throat was dry and his face was sweaty. Everything began to shake. Slowly, he surrendered to his king's strength, letting his knees give out a little. He was in too much agony to stand.

His jaw hung as he tried to speak, yet he could do nothing but watch his king with fluttering eyes.

His silence was broken by a small cry as the blade was pushed in deeper. He instinctively curled, but the searing hand of his King clung to his neck. He turned his face to the ceiling and groaned, trying to understand what was happening.

"Do I have your full submission?" Demise asked again in a raspy whisper. He slowly dragged the blade from the demon's body.

Jerking and grimacing, Ghirahim quickly nodded, hoping that his agony would come to an end.

Perhaps he would just die. It seemed a better fate than this.

"Say, 'Yes, Master," Demise instructed.

Grinding his teeth and dropping his misty eyes, the demon huffed and shivered. "Yes, Master." The blade was in his chest but he felt it in his tongue as he spoke the harrowing words. Believing that he had said such a thing was as easy to accept as being stabbed through.

How was he not bleeding? How did he still have breath? Was his king simply taking his frustrations out on him?

As the sharp tip of the blade left him, he gasped and fell forward. He looked at the bloodless wound on his bare chest.

Demise lifted him again. "Pain is pleasure," he said in the demon's distressed face.

Ghirahim shook his head weakly. "What—"

Pain entered him again as the rapier was plunged forward. He lurched down with eyes wide and mouth trying to scream protests and curses.

"Pain is pleasure," Demise said with a growl. Once more, the blade began its slow exit.

Still flinching and recoiling, Ghirahim clenched his fists. "Pl—" he started to say. "Please…"

"No," his king said. "Pain is pleasure. Say it."

Ghirahim's knees shook as the blade left him. He was on the brink of passing out. "Pain is…pleasure…"

The rapier was buried up to its hilt inside of him once more. Before he could even think, it was yanked out, pulling his body down with it. The sound that seeped from his mouth was the most pathetic he had ever uttered.

"Pain is pleasure," Demise said, gripping the demon by the neck and sinking the blade into his chest again.

As soon as Ghirahim thought that he couldn't take any more, his body felt different. He opened his eyes and looked to his king. He was grinning. The weapon was removed and their eyes joined. Ghirahim bit his lip to avoid making any noise. The blade hurt, but not nearly as bad as before. He marveled at it.

When the blade entered him again, he wasn't as afraid. It stung slightly, but something was beginning to replace the discomfort. With the rapier's withdrawal, Ghirahim finally realized what it was.

"Pain is pleasure," Demise said, smiling dryly. He held the tip of the blade against the demon's chest.

"Pain is pleasure," Ghirahim answered, eying the blade and waiting.

As it slid inside of him, he was finally able to keep his eyes focused on his king. It almost felt…

The rapier left his body along with a heavy exhale. He stared at the floor for a moment, not quite believing what he was feeling. Or not feeling.

Demise moved closer still. "Pain is pleasure," he said slowly, dipping the blade in once more.

Keeping his gaze on Demise, Ghirahim arched his body against the strange sensation. His head lolled gently along the wall as the blade was almost pulled out.

But it was thrust in again. Ghirahim bit his tongue.

"Pain is pleasure," Demise whispered as he pulled the blade back.

"Pain is…ah," the demon groaned, feeling a wave of delight as he took the blade in. He closed his eyes, self-conscious.

"Pain is pleasure…" Demise said, his eyes fiery. He pulled the weapon out a few inches. "Pain is pleasure…" He pushed it back in. "Pain is pleasure…"

Swaying with the rapier's movements, Ghirahim let his head drop against the wall, afraid to show that he was enjoying it.

But as his king thrust the blade in and out, he found himself squirming. It felt so good…

"This is what you will be rewarded with for doing my will," Demise said, looking down on the demon's eager face. "Others' suffering will be your pleasure." As if to drive his point home, the smooth motion of his hand sped up.

Soon, the demon was panting and wriggling. It felt as though every nerve that could experience pleasure was doing so in that moment. The feeling was extraordinary, a little bit off, and he didn't understand it, but it filled him with such a wonderful tingling sensation that he just couldn't get enough. Every bit of him throbbed with the feeling.

Having refused to make a sound when lying with the empyrean, the demon was shaken when he felt a moan slip out of his mouth. He dazed for a moment.

"Your desire will be for _me_," Demise said, still thrusting the blade.

Not knowing what he meant, Ghirahim just nodded, hoping that this wasn't going to end anytime soon.

"_I hope completion isn't something that you need, my little diamond."_

Ghirahim tried to calm his breathing. Did he just hear that correctly? "I'm afraid I…" He waited a few seconds. All of his words were hopelessly breathy. "…Don't…understand." Demise's intense expression told him that he'd forgotten something. "Master."

After one final thrust, Demise reclaimed the blade and tossed it to the ground with a clank. Ghirahim looked at it longingly. He thought of the empyrean, feeling nothing but disapproval for her, and mourning what could have been.

And wondering what in the world he'd gotten himself into.

"In time, you will."


	33. Part III: In Pieces

_A/N: For those who read the end of the Prequel when it was available, I am implying a slightly different ending in this chapter—one where Ghirahim, instead of being just out of reach of Zelda and Impa as they enter the Skyview Temple, manages to catch up with them when they are inside. A second fight ensues (the first being when Zelda was initially pulled to the surface), which Impa and Zelda narrowly escape from before dashing to the spring and finally fleeing the area._

- Part III -

Chapter 33

In Pieces

Crystal blue gazed toward the horizon. Blond hair swept listlessly at the urging of a soft breeze. Tattered magenta spread out on the ground. She took a breath, and slowly let it go.

"Your Grace?"

For three days her sore feet had almost been her main concern, trailing closely behind the likelihood of a night ambush by bokoblins. On this cool summer morning, however, a single thing reigned in her thoughts—

Green. She had never been very fond of green.

The news at the start of the fall semester that this year's graduating knight class was to wear uniforms of this hue had done very little for her. In fact, it had been a disappointment.

The Knight Academy was already littered with green uniforms from the previous year's graduates. All of the men had been dressed in yellow, while all of the ladies had been given light green.

Like a true Azurian she had hoped for blue; a rich, royal blue. Something to bring out deep sapphire eyes.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder how the green would fare on one knight in particular; one who happened to have dashing good looks.

Her next breath was drawn out. It melted into a sigh. Her eyes glazed over.

"Your Grace?"

The young woman jumped and turned, focusing on the auburn glare of her guardian. The hint of annoyance that emerged on her face didn't last under the Sheikah's authoritative stare. "Yes, Impa?"

"Are you well this morning?" Impa ran a hand over one of the bandages on her arm.

Zelda glanced at herself. "Yes. Just a bit worn out." She picked up the bottom of her ragged skirt. "And maybe in need of a bath." She studied the loose hem in her fingers. "And new clothes."

"You will have the chance to wash in the Earth Spring," Impa said, throwing two large handfuls of dirt on the fire. She stood up. "We are less than two days away."

Zelda nodded. Looking through the trees, she envisioned the dangerous path to the spring. The further north they traveled, the more the energy of the volcano grew. The ground often vibrated and rumbled.

"Something troubles you," Impa said, crossing her arms.

Zelda watched the sky. Every trace of night had finally fled. "Do you think he'll forgive me?" Impa remained silent and still. "I know you're displeased with him, but he's still my best friend. And I feel so bad for—" She swallowed.

"It was necessary," Impa said firmly, taking a step. "If the knight had known of the possible dangers ahead of him, he might not have come."

"I should have warned him somehow," Zelda said, looking at her hands. "Shared more details from my visions before we were separated. Left him some sort of note in the woods. _Anything_. If he'd been aware of what was coming, then he could've made his own decision about whether or not to proceed. Right now, I feel like what happened was my fault because I knew about the demon, but just…didn't tell him."

"You cannot be blamed for his failure," Impa said.

"But I can't be acquitted of it, either."

Impa tapped her fingers. "Whether the knight had been briefed on the situation or not, his capture is not your fault, Your Grace."

"I'm not sure if I can accept that," Zelda said, climbing to her feet. "Link doesn't just fail…at _anything_."

"But he did," Impa said. Zelda looked up at the willowy Sheikah. "I have many injuries to prove his failures that day." Zelda sighed. "You know, Your Grace, that he should have been there to fend off Ghirahim before he intercepted us in the temple."

"I know…" Zelda said somberly.

"You almost did not have enough time in the spring. We barely escaped." Impa's eyes burned with disapproval. "It should not have happened. It was not meant to happen."

"I think a lot of things have happened which weren't meant to happen," Zelda said, willing her feet to move. "I think we both know what kept the demon from pursuing us after the fight." She gave her guardian a flat look. "I think Link deserves a little more gratitude than this."

Looking away, Impa walked ahead. "Let us hope that he has learned to be on time."

Zelda followed. "Who knows what the demon did to him? And Link must be so upset that I stayed to talk to Pipit, but not him…"

"We must move swiftly," Impa said over her shoulder. "I sense that Ghirahim is on the surface, but I am unsure where."

…..

The gap in the cloud cover waited like an open door. Link watched the distant opening, swearing that it must have been more than three days since he'd ridden the wind of the Goddess and met Crimson in the air with Pipit and Midna. Just like his journey in the demon realm, it all seemed to have happened so long ago.

Link hugged his violin case to his chest. "When I went down eight days ago, there was no one on the surface. Except for the old lady at the Sealed Temple." He rubbed his neck in thought. "How many people do you think are there now?"

Directly behind him, Pipit answered with a hiccup and a disconcerting belch.

Link shied away. "Geez, Pipit."

Pipit pounded his chest a few times. "Sorry. My stomach's still a little weird."

"Too bad Hematite's still busy courting Azura," Link said, giving his friend a wary look.

"I'm fine," Pipit insisted. "And to answer your question: I dunno. Five? Five-thousand? What difference does it make how many people are down there?"

"I'm just curious," Link said, looking ahead. "It's dangerous down there." His brow came up as he watched someone leap from his or her loftwing and vanish into the clouds.

"Well, we know there's at least two," Pipit said, catching the same sight as Link. "Assuming that decrepit old saddle bag hasn't kicked the bucket yet."

"Wow, Pipit. Good job respecting your elders."

"What?" Pipit asked with a shrug. "She looked like she was at least a-hundred-and-sixty."

"Is that any reason to talk about her like that?"

Pipit muttered to himself. "Actually, I'm just cranky 'cause I'm mourning the loss of thirty-percent of my sex life."

Link slowly looked behind him. "You mean Karane?"

Pipit nodded. "Yeah."

"Thirty-percent? You seriously know the percentage?"

"Rough estimate."

Link rolled his eyes. "So what's the other seventy-percent?"

"Well, five-percent is other people," Pipit said. "I just lumped them together. Actually, it fluctuates. Maybe five to ten-percent."

"And the other sixty to sixty-five percent?" Link glanced behind him. With a goofy smile, Pipit gave a little wave with his left hand.

Sighing, Link turned away again. "Right. Well, I'm sorry that you now have ninety to ninety-five percent responsibility."

"Well, it's better than the full one-hundred, eh?" Pipit asked with a chortle, giving Link a spirited shove.

"I guess," Link said stiffly.

"Then again, even _you_ aren't your entire sex life." Pipit crossed his arms. "Midna must count as something. I mean, you guys did fool around a couple times in recent days."

"Mildly," Link added.

"Well, it still counts. And even though you refuse to say it, I'm betting Lord Voldemort holds at least…what, half a percent?"

Link didn't look at him. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

"I wish," Pipit said. "I think we both know that—"

"There's nothing to know," Link interrupted.

"Hey, I'm just—"

"That's enough," Link spat over his shoulder.

Pipit retracted. "All right, all right." He looked at the back of Link's head. "We really shoulda picked up a new knight's cap for you while we were at home."

"It's fine," Link grumbled.

"Still dunno how a knight loses his hat," Pipit said. Link stared at a faraway air cyclone. "Or his sword." Link turned again. "Oh, pardon me. Your sword is _broken_, not lost." Pipit leaned in. "You still haven't told me how the hell that happened."

"At least I told you it happened at all," Link said. "That's really all you need to know."

"Come on now," Pipit said with his hands out. "You think I don't know what it's like to have your manhood shattered? 'Cause you know I do. I have no qualms being honest."

"I don't…know exactly what happened to the sword," Link said.

Pipit scoffed. "What do you mean you don't know?"

Link gripped his case tighter. "I didn't see it break."

"Why?"

"Because I don't think I was conscious at the time."

Pipit's acerbic expression eased. "Huh?"

Link sighed. "The last I knew, the sword was whole. Then I found the fragments inside my bag in the spring."

"What do you mean you weren't conscious?"

"I died, Pipit," Link said. Pipit gawked at him. "I told you I lost a fight."

"Yeah, but you didn't say you _died_," Pipit said. "What the hell? How are you even here?"

"I was told there're certain places in the demon realm where a person can die, but still wake up in his own realm."

"No way."

Link shrugged.

Pipit thumbed his chin. "Hey, you know what? I've heard about that sort of thing before."

Link looked at him. "Yeah?"

"Totally. Remember that story called _The Void_ or something in mythology II? Eleventh grade?"

Link thought for a moment. "No…"

"You musta slept in that day and missed it. If I had a rupee for every time _that_ happened—"

"What's the significance of the story?" Link asked.

"Oh. Well, it's the same old 'kid gets lured into the lair of a demoness' rubbish, but instead of giving it up to her and being tossed aside and left to wander the world a wretched half-of-a-man, she kills him."

"And?"

"And he wakes up in his bed the next morning as if nothing happened. So he goes about his business, the days pass, and he notices something's wrong."

"What was it?" Link asked, his voice quieting.

"He doesn't know, so he ignores it. But this nagging feeling that he's missing something leads him to search for it."

"Was it his dependence on the woman?" Link asked.

"Good guess, but no. Yeah, there was that, but that wasn't what drove him completely bonkers." Link's eyes shifted. "So never being able to find his missing piece, the guy cracks, runs off a cliff and falls to his violently painful death. The end. Good story, huh?"

"Yeah…" Link dazed for a few seconds. "So, what did the missing piece end up being?"

"Don't remember," Pipit said with a weak grin. "But I know it didn't have to do with your guess."

"What do you mean you don't remember?"

"Geez," Pipit said. "Just gimme a minute. Maybe I will."

"You better. You can't tell me a story like that without finishing it."

"Let it stew in my head for a while. It'll come to me."

The two sat silently for several minutes. The gap in the clouds grew nearer.

"Oh!" Pipit exclaimed.

"What?" Link twisted around.

"On a brighter note, what do you think became of this other Link who your sword is so fond of?" Annoyed, Link turned back around. "Haven't you thought about it?"

"Of course I have."

"Isn't it weird how he has the same name as you?"

"A bit," Link answered.

"And that he looks like you?"

"Sort of."

"Well, actually, sounds like he was taller." Link drummed his fingers on his case. "Guy seems to have been thoroughly screwed over."

"Maybe, maybe not," Link said. "Who knows?"

"Certainly not Effie," Pipit said. "Too bad she was forbidden to think on the subject. With three-thousand years to contemplate, I bet she would've figured it out based on logic alone."

"I guess."

"Now your only hope is the Lord of Darkness. If no one else, he knows, right?"

"Um…" Link's throat suddenly felt dry. His chest hurt a little too. "I suppose."

"Not that you can just go find him, sit him down and ask him what he knows. Dude's about as pleasant as an ingrown hair. Hopefully we'll never see that wack-job again."

Link dropped his head and almost laughed. "Oh, I'm sure we'll be seeing him again."

"What's he want, anyway?" Pipit asked, tilting inward. "I'm so in the dark here."

"Well, Fi said Zelda was needed to revive this great evil…"

"But why?"

"I guess we should have paid closer attention when the sacred texts were being read to us all those times. Maybe it's explained in there."

"Hm. Maybe." Pipit nodded. "Hey, but didn't you say Ef's knowledge of the text was completed in Superna? Like she absorbed it or something? Everything from the main book, anyway." Surprised that he'd forgotten so quickly, Link nodded. "So let's ask her."

"The soul of the Goddess Incarnate is needed to restore the Demon King to his true form," Fi said from Link's bag. "Thereafter he will aim to finish what he began three millennia ago: locate and claim the Triforce and subsequently dominate the world of men."

"Oh, is that all?" Pipit asked with a laugh.

Giving him a look, Link was soon joining in on the wry chuckle. "That's the worst thing I've ever heard."

"What the hell is a Triforce?" Pipit asked.

Link stuck a hand into his largest bag. "Here," he said, handing the lighter of the sword pieces to his friend. "We're gonna be landing soon. If you want to ask Fi twenty questions when we're down there, be my guest. Just don't cut yourself."

"Thanks," Pipit said, marveling at his flawless reflection. "So I can ask her whatever I want?"

"Just be polite," Link said, glad that it was almost time to jump.

"Maybe she can tell me another story," Pipit said, his eyes gleaming. "I really enjoyed her last one. I was hooked."

"Mm-hm."

"Especially the tale of her last sexual encounter," Pipit said. Link shook his head. "I've never even heard sex talked about like that. It was like some kind of graphic but emotionless porn."

"Fi is…good at being straightforward and detailed," Link said, making a face.

"It was awesome," Pipit said. "If I were her, I never would've left Nightcrawler's side. I woulda been like, 'You need to do this to me every night'."

"Pipit…" Link mumbled.

Pipit placed the shard in his satchel. "Sure was nice of Fledge to make this bag for me. Kinda strange, though."

"And that pretty yellow sailcloth?" Link asked, smiling. "It matches your tunic so nicely."

"Hey, I only asked him to make this so I could risk my life to save _your _ass," Pipit said. "And the color was totally his choosing."

"Uh-huh."

"He's got a veritable business going. I think he's made sailcloths for everyone in Skyloft."

"Well, good for him," Link said, securing the strap of his instrument case over his shoulder. He then made sure that Eagus's sword and shield were firmly in place.

"I wonder which of these swords is crappier," Pipit said, pushing his borrowed blade further into its scabbard. "I'm thinking mine. Maybe I should buy one instead of using shoddy junk from the sparring hall."

"Put those night patrol paychecks to good use," Link said, counting down in his head.

"You mean giving it all to a sottish compulsive gambler isn't good enough?"

"Your mom isn't that bad, Pip." Link pulled the long white cloth from his bag and wrapped the edge around his wrist.

"She's bad enough," Pipit mumbled. "And speaking of moms, we never had time to ask around about yours."

"I mentioned it to the headmaster yesterday," Link said, balling the cloth and readying it in his hand.

"What'd he say? And don't you dare jump before telling me."

"Well, that Twili girl already told us my parents came to Skyloft, but she didn't know where. The headmaster's known all along, though."

Pipit's jaw dropped. "Where'd they go?"

"The North Province."

"What! You mean they've been a ten-minute flight away for how long? If Gaepora knew, why didn't he say anything?"

"He didn't want to stir up trouble, I guess," Link said. "Maybe my parents didn't want to be found."

"And these are the people you want to reunite with?"

"Their opinions of me and what defines me are two different things," Link said flatly. "Besides, no matter how they feel about me, I want some answers."

Pipit shrugged. "So, when our little camping trip is over, you wanna check out the North Province?"

Link shook his head. "He said they're not there anymore."

"Well, what the hell? Why not?"

"According to him, they disappeared ten years ago."

"Ten years? Well—"

"But I think I know where they went," Link said with the slightest smile.

"You do?" Pipit looked away and scratched his head. "So where is that?"

But Pipit immediately discovered that his question had gone unheard. Just like that, the space in front of him was empty. He peeked down and saw his friend falling further and further away. "Oh, I get it," he said. "I left you hanging, so now you're returning the favor. Pssh, whatever." He fished around in his bag for Fledge's sailcloth. With a sigh, he looped it around one of his hands, jumped off of Crimson, struck a superhero-in-flight pose and plummeted toward the clouds.

…

When Link had looked upon the grandeur of the Sealed Grounds and temple for the first time several days ago, amazement had overtaken him. Now he was visited by the same feeling, but for an entirely different reason—

There were people. Everywhere. Dozens upon dozens of them from what Link could tell. Maybe even hundreds. He hadn't expected such a large crowd.

Floating down absentmindedly, reality struck him. It hit him even harder when the ground came up unexpectedly under his feet.

Staggering, Link stared into the distance. For a moment, he couldn't move.

This place was a deathtrap. Not that the hordes of people crawling all over the place were paying heed to that. The surface was one realm away from the home of the enemy: the demons. Didn't they know that? Ghirahim himself could be hiding behind a tree somewhere, ready to snatch someone for one of his sadistic games. The thought made Link's heart want to stop.

He searched through the people. Knights and soldiers—they could defend themselves easily enough. But what about all the civilians?

He looked down and shook his head. No… No one could defend themselves against Ghirahim. His magic and strength would win out every time. Link looked to the multitudes again, becoming more nervous by the minute.

"Hey! You better move or I'm gonna be sitting on your shoulders in about five seconds!"

Squinting, Link looked up. Leaping out of the way, he observed his friend's ungainly landing. He tried to hide his amusement.

Knocked on his rear end, Pipit scrunched up his sailcloth. "I know you're not laughing."

"Not at all," Link said with a grin.

"Unlike you, I need more than one go to learn how to use this infernal thing." Shoving the cloth in his bag, Pipit jumped up. "I am _no_ good at this."

"I've had more practice than you," Link said. "Wing Ceremony, remember?"

"Ha, yeah," Pipit said. "Zelda shoved you off the statue. That was pretty awesome."

"Mm," Link grunted, putting his cloth in his bag. He started for the Sealed Grounds.

"Learning on the fly, right?" Pipit asked with a nudge. "Necessity breeds fast learning, especially when you're about to smash into the ground." Link stared ahead as he walked. "Geez, man, look at you. You're like a pack donkey." Pipit chuckled. "You've got a sword on your back, a shield over that, two bags hanging from your belt _and_ your violin case hanging from your side. You seriously gonna lug all that through the woods?"

"It's all lightweight."

"But it's bulky," Pipit said.

"I'll manage."

Pipit eyed him. "Why are you bringing your instrument?"

Link looked away. "I just figured it was a good time to practice."

"For what?" Pipit asked. "There some concert in the wilderness that I don't know about? Planning on wowing the squirrels?"

"There's a bunch of graduations I could play for," Link said, studying the iron fence on his left as he passed it.

"You really think any graduation ceremonies will be happening?" Pipit asked. "Look at all these people down here. I bet everyone in your class, and my class, plus about ten different classes are here right now."

"I don't wanna think about it," Link mumbled.

"Plus you said that army general, whatever her name is, said that there's a bunch of people here from Twilight. And I bet there's people from other states too, with more coming all the time."

"Yeah…"

"Nobody's gonna be there for any of the graduations," Pipit said.

"I dunno," Link said with a sigh.

"So what's the real reason you brought it?"

"Maybe to beat you over the head with it," Link grumbled.

"Ooh. Somebody's cranky," Pipit chided.

"No," Link said. "Just unhappy about the number of people down here. This isn't safe for anyone."

"What, it's like a big pre-war party!" Pipit exclaimed. "It's the let's-get-to-know-each-other merriment before we form ranks and haul off to fight a war we can't possibly win."

"Pipit…" Link glared to his right. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What comes with the Lord of Darkness? The Army of Darkness, right? And this Demise character we've heard so much about."

Link gritted his teeth. "Your lack of faith in your fellow knights is disturbing. And how do we know there's going to be a war?" His expression hardened.

"Sure sounds like it to me," Pipit said, kicking a stone out of his way. "And a mishmash of disordered knights and soldiers who've never seen war outside of a storybook against an army of well-seasoned demon warriors doesn't sound too promising." He shrugged. "Just sayin'."

Link bit his tongue in an attempt to avoid saying something he might regret.

"The way I see it," Pipit said, "the more people that're here, the better. Safety in numbers."

"Just means there's more people to die," Link mumbled.

"You said it yourself: have faith. And what're you so upset about? It's not like you caused the war or anything."

Link's head dropped. The sound of Pipit's voice as he continued to talk faded into a drone.

_Not like I caused the war…_

His friend's lively chatter blended into the buzz of the grounds beside the Sealed Temple. More colors than he was able to keep track of circulated before him as knights and soldiers moved about.

Link pulled his violin against his chest again. He looked to the right. A large group of Twili soldiers in black uniforms were standing outside the temple. He looked to the left. Men and women in tunics of grey, yellow, blue and black were gathered around the ancient chasm marking the very spot where the leader of the demons had been sealed.

Link watched in silent dread as people walked down the coiling path toward the bottom of the pit. They strolled leisurely as if they hadn't a care in the world. Some even laughed.

_They need to speak to the old guardian in the temple,_ Link thought. _Then they wouldn't be laughing._

But he knew where their carefree attitudes were coming from. Unlike him, none of these newcomers had heard Fi account the horrors of the first war with Demise. None of them knew who Ghirahim was, nor had they ever seen the demon realm. Link didn't expect any of them to believe the tales told about the demons, let alone that they would soon be meeting them in battle.

Stopping along the edge, Link peered into the pit and shook his head.

"You said that's where Ghirahim sometimes meets with Demise, right, Fi?" Link asked. He realized after he said it that the demon's name had flowed effortlessly.

"Yes, Master. According to the energy waves surrounding the Sealed Grounds, Demise's strength has grown since the last time we were here."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Link asked quietly.

"Holy wow," Pipit breathed. "There are so many hotties here."

Link gave him the eye. "Can't you stop searching for your five to ten-percent even for a few minutes?" Pipit gave him an innocent look. "This is serious, Pip. These people are all easy prey for…" Link paused. "…Those who might be prowling."

"And I think you worry too much," Pipit said, roughing up Link's shoulder.

"You're just like them," Link said.

"What? Choosing not to worry until there's an actual reason to worry?" Pipit shot his friend a sardonic look and a shrug. "While I wait for hell's fury to fall, I'm perfectly happy to check out some of these blazing hot chicks." Link looked into the pit again. "Like her over there."

With a sigh, Link followed Pipit's gaze over to a small patch of trees beside the temple. There stood a slender young woman of medium height. They saw only her back. She seemed to be looking into the forest depths. According to her black tunic with the familiar design, it was another Twili knight. Nothing new.

Her bow and quiver full of arrows drew Link's attention, but again, nothing new. He looked more closely at the contours of the young lady's body. He blinked a few times. It was then that he noticed a small amount of red hair showing beneath her black knight's cap.

"That's Midna," Link said, keeping his eyes on her.

Pipit lifted a hand to scratch his forehead. "Ooh… Eeep. I didn't know she was coming down here."

"She said last night she might," Link said. "When I woke up this morning she was gone. She must've gone back to her room, got her stuff and left."

"Woke upthis morning?" Pipit asked with a grin. "She spent the night in your room?"

"Yes, Pipit. She was having nightmares and wanted to sleep in my room."

"Ah, I get it," Pipit said with a little wink. Link's stare remained on Midna. "Why don't you go over there and get a little somethin' to hold you over for a couple days before we take off?"

"I'll go over there, but not for that reason." Link started walking to the temple.

"Suit yourself," Pipit said as he watched his friend leave. When Link was out of range, Pipit added, "And how come you can recognize Midna so fast just by looking at her butt?"

Oblivious to Pipit's crudeness, Link studied her. He moved his instrument case to his shoulder. "Midna?" he called from several feet away.

She didn't respond.

"Midna?" he asked a bit louder. She still didn't move. "Midna?"

Her lack of response made him wonder. _Maybe it's not her,_ he thought.

He stepped briskly but lightly until he was directly behind her. He stretched to the side to view her up-close. _Well, it's definitely her…_ He cleared his throat. "Mid?"

Instead of responding to Link's call, she continued her vigilant stare into the trees.

Link looked her over, beginning to worry that something was wrong. "Midna?" He took a step. When she still didn't budge, he reached for her shoulder.

The moment his fingers brushed her, she grabbed the bow off of her back, whipped an arrow from her quiver and spun around.

In an instant, the tip of her nocked arrow met Link's metal shield. The two objects clanged.

Surprised, Link gaped at her over his shield. "Midna? What're you doing?" Her intense look rapidly softened. Link lowered his shield and took hold of the arrowhead that was staring him in the face. He pushed it to the side. "What's the matter?"

With bowstring loosening and arrow dropping to the ground, Midna looked down.

Link was left speechless for a moment as he watched her. "Um…" He looked at the weapon in her hands.

Midna took a slow breath and straightened up. "Sorry," she said.

Link looked to the side. A few observers who'd heard the clatter were gawking. "Is something bothering you?"

Midna's eyes were low when she answered. "I'm okay."

"Okay?" Link took a step. "You almost shot me in the face."

Midna dropped her arrow in its quiver and slung her bow across her back. "You're too quick for that."

Link looked around, bewildered. "Well…"

"I'm just a little distracted," she said. "I've been on the surface before but this is still pretty new to me. And I haven't been sleeping well."

"Did you have any more nightmares last night?"

Midna looked at him blankly. "I think sleeping next to you made it better."

Link grinned a little bit. "Oh." He cautiously rehung his shield. "So why did you decide to come down here?"

"I didn't feel like being left behind," Midna said, folding her hands and looking into the crowd. "What good is a knight if she's sitting idly in her dorm room?" She shrugged. "Everyone from your building is here. Everyone from my building is here. Pretty soon everyone on campus will be."

"There's a lot of people from TKA here," Link said, encouraging her to walk with him. "Anyone you recognize?"

"Some," Midna said. She eyed Link's violin case.

"So, what is it that you plan to do down here?" he asked. He noticed that her hair looked different.

"I'm not sure. I haven't really spoken to anyone in charge yet. But I heard that there're plenty of opportunities for work. I could cart stuff back-and-forth down here, or maybe bring food and materials from Skyloft." She smiled nonchalantly. "Or help make some tents, or join one of the repair teams working on the Sealed Temple, or Skyview Temple, or help guard the Sealed Grounds. They're also preparing the land a couple miles away for farming."

"You don't sound too thrilled about any of those things," Link said. "You couldn't have come all the way for that."

Midna smiled knowingly. "Are you implying I'm not the type of girl who likes to get her hands dirty?"

"Well, if you have an interest in building, transporting, or growing food, I haven't heard about it."

Midna giggled softly. "You're right. I came to see what the training is like."

"What sort of training?" Link asked.

"Archery, sword fighting, combat skills. Some of us are supposed to be given command of other people." She leaned in. "I've even heard there's going to be horse-back riding lessons."

Link gaped in disbelief. "Horses?" Midna nodded. "You're a lot more informed than I am. Where are they getting horses from?"

"According to some soldiers I was chatting with, the desert."

Link looked at her in wonder as they walked. He examined her hairline. Instead of several loose strands streaming from her knight's cap, her hair was pulled tightly back. "Desert?"

"Yes, the Lanayru Desert, silly. The one out west?"

"Well, yeah, I know where it is."

"There's a race of people who live out there."

"Humans?" Link asked.

"Not exactly," Midna said. "But they're horse masters _and_ magic users."

"Magic users." Link thought for a moment. "Not exactly human." He looked at his bag. Suddenly, something clicked in his head. "The humans and Empyreans from Fi's story. They must be their ancestors." His eyes brightened.

"You just realized that now?" Midna teased.

"I guess," Link answered.

Midna gave him a playful look. "You'll have to fill me in on the last part of that story. I missed the ending."

"No problem." Link searched the premises, wary of the backdrop of thick forest behind the Sealed Grounds.

"Well, there's Pipit," Midna said. "Talking to some Twili girl."

"Typical," Link said.

"He's going with you to get your sword, right?"

"Yup."

"That'll be fun," Midna said. "Never enough male bonding, right?"

"If you say so."

"Now _you _don't sound so thrilled," Midna said with a little smirk.

"I dunno." Link shook his head. "Pipit's just…Pipit."

"And you're lucky to have him."

"Mm-hm," Link said.

"Oh!" Midna said. "I see General Ani on the other side of the pit." She pointed. "At least, I think that's her. I've never actually spoken to her."

It took Link a few seconds to remember. "Oh, the Twili general."

"I heard she's really tough," Midna said. "I guess you'd have to be to be a woman in her position."

"Yeah, she seemed rugged," Link said. "She likes to talk a lot, too."

"I should introduce myself," Midna said. "Even though she doesn't hold any power over anyone but her soldiers, it can't hurt to be on the good side of a general , right?"

"You can do better than just one general," Link added, observing the people. "I'm pretty sure most of the generals I met over the weekend are here."

"If anyone is privy to what's to come for this soon-to-be-camp, it's them," Midna said. "I'm gonna head over. Promise you won't leave until I can say a proper goodbye?"

Link grinned. "I promise."

With a gleam in her eye, Midna slipped away. Link watched her go, well aware of the characteristic sway of her hips as she walked. It was especially eye-catching with her weapon draped across her back. She looked dangerously sexy…

"Does she know how hard you stare at her?"

Link hopped sideways. "Gods, Pipit."

"Just asking. Not that she doesn't stare at you just as hard."

Link looked up at his friend. "She does?"

"Wow. You're not clueless."

"Well, if she's like me, she only does it when I'm not looking," Link said, starting down the path leading to the chasm.

Pipit followed. "Why don't you guys just sneak off into the trees and get it over with. I'll watch your back. I'm telling you, it'll hold you over for a while and you'll be a happier man for it."

"For the tenth time, Pipit, I'm not gonna do that with her."

"Good lords, why not?" Pipit asked. "You want her, she wants you. It's so obvious it's practically scrawled across your faces. You might as well hang a sign around your neck that says, 'I desperately want my fantasies to come true. Make sweet love to me, Midna—Love, Link'. And she could do the same, except, you know, reversed."

"Ugh," Link grunted. "I never said I didn't want to. I'm choosing not to. I have self-control."

Pipit glared at him. "Oh, that's just wrong. You saying I have no self-control? 'Cause I totally do." Link looked incredulously at him. "What?"

"What happened to, 'I'm planning on behaving myself from now on'? You said that just a few days ago, and look what happened."

"I had a bad weekend," Pipit said.

"Sleeping with numerous people is not a bad weekend," Link said. "It's shameful."

"Oh, I get it. You disapprove of my heathen ways. Well, forgive me, oh pious one." He gave a sarcastic bow. "But let us not forget that what is done in the mind is just as bad as what is acted upon. Why don't you think about that next time you're about to bust a nut to the mental image of Midna _au naturel_."

Two female knights in dark blue tunics gave each of the young men dubious looks as they passed by.

"Pipit!" Link whispered, appalled.

"What? It's completely true!"

"So? You don't have to say it!"

"Ha! I love when you admit you're not Mister Purity. The great Link is human. Maybe I should go share the news with Midna."

"I'll tie your face in a knot first!"

"How about you leave me alone about my woman habit and we can avoid the face-tying," Pipit suggested.

"Fine by me," Link said, looking forward.

The pair walked silently for a couple minutes as they viewed the activity below.

"Karane was really upset," Link said.

"Come on! You just said you were gonna leave me alone."

"I'm just relaying how unhappy she was last night."

"Man, I _felt_ how unhappy she was last night."

"Well, I mean, I talked to her. While you were taking a bath."

"You did?"

"Yeah."

"What'd she say?"

"That she was stupid for believing that you guys were meant to be."

Pipit didn't say anything for a minute. "Yeah, she's probably right."

Link scoffed. "That's harsh."

"Good gods, let me finish. I was gonna say that I felt the same way for a while too. But then I realized that something wasn't quite right. Like something was missing."

"What was that?"

"I dunno. Whatever's supposed to be there. It just _wasn't_." Pipit shrugged. "I can't stay with someone like that in the long run. I mean, she tore it up in bed, but I woulda felt way too guilty staying."

"You?" Link asked. "Would've felt guilty?"

"Indeed, yes. One does not need to have a raging guilt complex to feel guilty about something."

"Mm-hm."

"I guess this proves that you've saved at least a little bit of guilt for the rest of us."

Link just nodded, having averted his focus. "Headmaster's down there."

"You mean my future father-in-law?" Pipit asked. Link glanced at him. "Kidding."

The rest of the walk was quiet. The path led them in another circle as they made their way down. Link visually explored his surroundings more closely than he had the first time. He knew the surface's history now and understood the significance of everything that was presently happening. With each step, he felt more like he was part of something big.

He pictured that glorious moment when Hylia had summoned all of her power to seal the enemy away, when the ground had parted and shook as if struck by a violent tremor. It must have been an astonishing sight to behold. Part of him wished that he could've seen it with his own eyes.

Now more than ever it was comforting to have Fi by his side. Ignorance had certainly been bliss, as was apparent from the absence of urgency throughout the Sealed Grounds. It was easier not knowing. But still, he was grateful for everything that Fi had shared with him. He looked forward to having another conversation with her soon; perhaps during their trip in the woods—if Pipit ever gave him a moment's peace.

Finally reaching the bottom, Link hunted for familiar faces. While most he'd never seen, a few stood out—one of whom was General Pajaro from Azuria. Link desperately hoped that the tall, older man had forgotten about Pipit's humiliating little stunt in his office.

Link also saw Captain Gannet, the strawberry-blond young man who greeted them at the Skyloftian army base. Link also recognized several of the soldiers who he'd seen that day, although most of the uniforms he was seeing were from Twilight.

One particular man in a uniform that was almost as grey as his hair had gathered a small following of people. After observing his mannerisms for a moment, Link quickly concluded that it was General Ornis from Superna. It was no surprise that people desired his company. Link had spoken to him only for a short time, but it was plain to see what type of person he was. He was distinguished, disciplined and motivated, just as he expected his soldiers to be. But he was also kind and just, and from what Link could tell, operated with the utmost integrity. Link knew that it wasn't the man's perfection that drew people—it was his heart.

Link wanted to speak with him if only to say hi. He hadn't been in the best mood when he'd stepped into the general's office two days ago. Link felt he owed the man something better.

With Pipit trailing behind and a sea of chatter surrounding them, Link weaved through soldiers and knights. Some of them waved to him. He nodded back.

Then, a voice with unmistakable pitch climbed above the background noise just long enough for Link to catch wind of it. He picked his head up.

"Why don't we just get going?" Pipit asked. "The sooner we get this _thing_ in the woods, the sooner we can get back here and start doing manly stuff in large groups of manly men, which hopefully includes activities like fighting with huge swords and spears, and learning how to kick demon ass."

Listening for the voice, Link was slow to respond. "I'm sure we'll get to do lots of that."

"I can't wait," Pipit said with enthusiasm.

Link's ears caught the sound again. A small chill travelled down his back.

"…Because to not refrain from intercepting an enemy whose banners are in perfect order is utter folly."

Link's throat dried up. He turned and gave Pipit a look.

"What?" Pipit asked. Link didn't say anything.

"To attack an enemy who is in calm and confident array is to fail in the art of studying circumstances. In your haste they will overtake you. And, well…" There was a pause. "Shame on you if that happens."

The voice was louder now. Link stopped walking, afraid that he was going to bump into its owner.

Checking out a pretty brunette, Pipit crashed into him. "Whoa! Why're we stopping?"

Assigning himself the job of avoiding who he knew was somewhere in the crowd, Link stood still and put his ears to work.

Pipit stepped in front of him. "What are you listening for?"

"That's about as senseless as advancing uphill against an enemy," the voice said. Link turned an ear behind him. "And the one thing that every good general needs to remember…"

Link looked at Pipit and shook his head, knowing it was too late.

"…Is that the key to winning a war is not simply tearing down the walls of a city or assaulting an army in battle array. No. The secret lies in—"

Feeling a face over his shoulder, Link cringed.

"—the art of assailing your enemy's mental equilibrium."

Link looked past Pipit and sighed before staring at his feet.

"Isn't that right, _Sir Link_?"

Blinking very slowly, Link gazed at the sky. After several seconds, he turned.

There, standing with a sly grin was General Sheik. His dark blue uniform was as wrinkle-free as it always was. Even his gold insignia was blindingly shiny. "You'll have to speak up, Sir Link. I don't think your fellow men of honor can hear you."

Link looked at the men surrounding their general. They couldn't have been much older than himself. They seemed to be out of their element as they stared perplexedly back.

Link turned his cagey eyes to the general.

"Oh, that's right," Sheik said, drawing his shoulders back and stepping into Link's face. "You're not well-versed in the art of war, are you?" He grinned. Link tried not to scowl. "It's unfortunate, but for a knight, typical." His grin stretched into a full smile. Link stood up taller and looked down at him. "Such a shame that while knights are bred for general acts of service, their education in warfare goes sorely neglected."

Sheik circled round. Link could feel the man's eyes on him. "Knights certainly have their moments. If someone is being bullied in the street in a seedy part of town, hooray for knights. If an old woman needs help carrying a heavy bag, hooray again. If some drunken fool takes a tumble off the side of his island, or if, heaven forbid, a kitten gets stuck in a tree…" Sheik flipped a pale lock of hair away from his auburn eyes and planted himself in front of Link again. "Then I think we're all on our knees praising the Goddesses for creating knighthood."

Sheik's smile disappeared. "But when the threat of war is looming and real danger is on the horizon, who has what it takes to step into the fray with weapons brandished and bravery coming out of their ears? Who is there to save the day?" Knowing the answer, Link kept quiet. "Those in the army, that's who. The Skyloftian army, to be precise. Although even foreign armies are most certainly a cut above the knights of _any_ state."

"Your opinion of knights seems to have gone down," Link observed. "Two days ago the biggest difference between knights and soldiers was discipline. Now knights are nothing but weaklings. What changed?"

"I met you," Sheik replied.

A huge belch sounded a few feet behind them. Everyone shifted their focus.

"S'cuse me," Pipit said, lifting a hand. "So, uh, who is this midget, anyway?" Link's eyes doubled in size. "Even _you're_ bigger than he is. He must be about four feet tall."

"This is the leader of Skyloft's army," Link murmured, thankful for the ambient noise. "You know—the guy you warned me about when we visited Kehia Island a little while ago?" Pipit's expression blanked. Link sighed. "The worst truth or dare game in history? Remember?" Pipit glanced sideways. Link shook his head. "Midna in her underwear?"

"Oh, yeah, now I remember," Pipit said. "So, this is Sheik?" He sent a scrutinizing look past his friend.

"The one and only," Sheik said proudly.

Pipit chuckled. "After everything I've heard, I was expecting someone big and scary."

Link glanced to the side as Sheik crept up behind him.

"A man does not need to look big and scary to _be_ big and scary," Sheik said, staring directly at Pipit. "Isn't that right, Sir Link?" Link slowly faced him. "Try not to pee your pants out of sheer joy, Sir Link. I know how much you missed me." Sheik stepped in close enough for Link to smell his cologne. "They're building me a nice big tent, with a big, cushy bed." His eyebrow came up. "When you get back, you'll have to visit me." His eyes dropped. "Maybe you can play your fiddle for me."

Pipit stepped up. "He doesn't have to visit anyone, including you."

Sheik scoffed coolly through his nose. "If it isn't the jealous boyfriend. Can't you lend him out even for one night?"

Link looked at the ground and grimaced.

"Jealous boyfriend?" Pipit asked. "I'm just pointing out that an army general has no real authority over a knight. Link is no more required to _visit your tent_ than you are to be a decent human being—obviously."

"Ooh, so mean-spirited he is," Sheik mocked. "I'd ask that age-old question, 'Do you know who you're talking to?', but you already admitted that you do. So consider this your final warning to watch what you say."

As Pipit and Sheik stared each other down, Link stood between them, praying that the tension would lessen.

"There's only one problem with that," Pipit said.

"And what's that, sunshine?" Sheik asked.

"I'm not afraid of you," Pipit answered.

"Well, we'll have to do something about that, now won't we?"

"You go right ahead. But it's gonna be a little hard to intimidate me with your arms and legs detached from your already stumpy body."

Link froze in place as he felt the ring of soldiers close in. Pipit's glare stuck to the general.

"It's okay, Pipit," Link said. "He just wants to talk. I have no problem talking."

"In his cushy bed?" Pipit asked.

"He's just kidding around," Link said, eyeballing the general.

"That's right," Sheik said, lifting his hands in surrender. "Kidding around. Certainly a 'funny guy' such as yourself understands what that means."

Pipit looked to each man around him. "Funny guy? What's that supposed to mean?"

Link didn't move, well-aware that this was not going to end in a civilized fashion.

"It means," Sheik said, "that even buffoons can have a talent for good timing and witty comebacks."

Pipit lightly elbowed Link out of the way. "Man, forgive me for what I'm about to do," he said to him.

Link felt himself pale. "Why?"

"'Cause I'm about to bitch slap the general of the Skyloftian army," Pipit said.

Link slid between them. "Actually, it's time for us to leave." His eyes bounced from one man to the other. "So we need to go talk to our headmaster." He gave Pipit a piercing look. "_Now_."

After several tense moments, Pipit finally took a small step back. "Yeah, the guy who actually has the authority here," he said.

"Correction," Sheik said, holding his hands behind his back. "This is brand new territory for everyone in leadership. And authority is relative." He gazed at Link. "In time, only one of us will be the sovereign leader over this land, and these men." He grinned. "And knights."

Pipit clenched his fists. "Well, I'll be damned if you end up ruler over anything, you f—"

"Pipit," Link said, shaking his head and mouthing, 'no'.

Sheik shared a laugh with one of his soldiers. "There is certainly no shortage of belligerence spilling from the mouths of fools these days."

Knowing how bad Pipit was at brushing off insults, Link turned and looked him in the eye. "Don't listen. Let's just leave."

Just as he was about to take a step, Link was jerked to a stop by a hand on his shoulder. "Wait."

Link took an irritated breath. "You haven't asked to be dismissed," Sheik said. "Not even a curtsy? Have you forgotten who you are in the presence of?"

"Didn't we already discuss this?" Pipit growled.

"I'm not talking to you," Sheik said evenly. "I'm talking to Sir Link."

Trying to ignore his friend's disapproval, Link looked at his shoes. "Can we leave?" he asked quietly, feeling Pipit's dismay.

"Eye contact, please," Sheik said. "That's what you give to those whom you respect."

Heaviness and judgment was in the air as Link faced the general. "I don't respect you," he said firmly. "Can we leave anyway?" Pipit snickered behind him.

Sheik lolled his head in amusement. "You already know I get off on hostility."

Awkwardness was added to the tension as Link waited for the general to say something. Instead, the man looked him over. Slowly.

Finally, Sheik brought his search to an end. His shoulders bounced as his grin returned. "Maybe you should beg. I've heard you like to beg." He smirked. _"Please, oh please, spare me, demon lord," _he whispered.

Link's throat knotted up.

Sheik laughed. "You may go," he finally said. Link inched away. "If you swear to visit me when you arrive back at the Sealed Grounds."

"Fine," Link said, moving away.

"Best of luck on your little adventure," Sheik called. "I hope you find exactly what you're looking for."

Within seconds Link had pushed through a wall of people. Pipit whirled around to follow him but was halted by a hand on his arm. He stopped and turned, finding the shorter man staring him aggressively in the face.

"Do you know what happens to soldiers who violate the Uniform Code of Military Justice?" Sheik asked. Pipit's eyes narrowed. "You may be a knight, but any privileges that you now have won't exist for long." Stronger than he looked, he grasped the collar of Pipit's shirt and dragged him down to his level. "Before you can say, 'Have mercy on me, General', you will find yourself in the disciplinary barracks, answering for your rebellion against your superiors. And it will not be pleasant. I promise you that."

Shoved back and wide-eyed, Pipit watched as Sheik strolled away, his attendants close behind.

Pipit tugged angrily on his shirt. "Yeah, go build that tent with your groupies," he muttered. "Freak."

Traveling in the direction that he thought Link had gone, Pipit looked for his friend, waving to knights who he knew from the academy and admiring attractive ladies he'd never seen before.

Quickly forgetting about the general's threat, Pipit spotted Link standing beside the chasm wall, conversing with Gaepora. Not wanting to intrude, Pipit sauntered along, observing as Gaepora did most of the talking. Link nodded his head every few seconds.

As he strode closer, Pipit picked up a few stray words about a volcano, facing imminent danger, and arriving on time. He thought he heard Zelda's name, too.

"Tell her that I'm sorry about the walk," Pipit heard the large man say. His voice was as deep and booming as ever. At that, Link seemed confused. "She'll know what you mean."

Finishing up the discussion, Link said his goodbyes and rejoined his friend. "Ready?"

"After you, bravado," Pipit said. "But first you gotta tell me—why the hell do you kiss that undersized bastard's ass so much?"

Link didn't respond right away. "Because I don't know what's going to happen, and he has a lot of influence." He grumbled a bit. "Plus he knows too much."

During the lengthy march toward level ground, Pipit felt like he'd gone back in time. He imagined this to be the very sight that Fi had seen day in and day out three millennia ago, green-clad hero and all.

The two had barely made it out of the chasm when a flash of green and blue whizzed by, grazing Link's side and forcing him to jump out of the way.

The first things Pipit saw were arms full of wood and a lady's sky blue tunic. "Hey, watch out!" he shouted.

Upon hearing the words, the hasty culprit stumbled, sending the entire bundle of wood crashing to the dirt. Link dashed forward and began picking up the pieces.

"You okay?" Link asked as he crouched down. His friendly smile faded as he saw the face before him.

Pipit squinted and jerked in surprise. "…Wha?" A scaly, green reptilian face centered with keen eyes turned toward both of them. "Who's that?"

"I don't know," Link answered. The two young men took note of the peculiar tunic-wearing creature before giving each other a look and a shrug. They listened as she murmured something imperceptible. Quick as a flash she reclaimed what had slipped out of her claws. "Are you all right?" Link asked again. With her small arms full once more, she stood up, only reaching about three-quarters of Link's height. She backed skittishly away.

Link brushed himself off and stood. "What's your name?"

At first, the creature spoke in a way that neither human could understand. Then, appearing jostled, she said in an unexpectedly sweet-sounding voice, "Skylark."

The two friends looked on in curiosity. "Where did you come from?" Link asked.

Clutching the wood to her chest, she shook her head lightly, her bare feet bringing her further away. "Sorry…for…almost…" They listened carefully to her halting words. "…Bumping into you, Courage."

Link stared as she scampered off. "Courage?"

"Who's the lizard?" Pipit asked. "Somebody's pet?"

"I don't think so," Link said vacantly.

"The surface is weird as hell, man," Pipit said. "The things I've seen, I swear…"

"Oh, I agree," Link said. The word courage resonated in his head.

"Hey, there's _Mid_," Pipit said teasingly. "You gonna give her a big sloppy goodbye kiss?"

"I do need to let her know I'm leaving," Link said.

"You have to tell her when you're leaving?" Pipit asked, making a goofy face. "You guys are so together. Admit it."

"No, we're not," Link said.

"Liar."

Midna spun around and flashed Link a loving smile long before he reached her. Glancing to the side, Pipit saw the same look mirrored on his friend's face. He rolled his eyes.

When the 'couple' came together, Midna took Link's hands, smiled again and leaned in to leave a soft kiss on his cheek. Pipit wrestled back a laugh after Link adopted a bewildered look and stiffened like a board.

When the two shared a little giggle, Pipit rubbed his neck and twiddled his fingers, feeling slightly jealous. Still, he was happy for them.

As Midna whispered something in Link's ear, a thought dawned upon Pipit. Pinching his chin, he looked up, made a decision and nodded.

Lost in the feel of Midna's lips so close to his sensitive ear, Link almost didn't notice when Pipit inserted something into one of his bags. Caught off-guard, he looked to where Pipit had been standing and found that he was walking away. Pulling away from Midna, Link jogged after Pipit.

"What'd you put in my bag?" Link asked.

"Something you'll need soon," Pipit said.

"Where're you going? Aren't you coming with me?"

"Not anymore."

"What? Why?"

Pipit turned. "Because _your girlfriend_ is unenthusiastic about staying here for a reason. She doesn't want to build or plant or polish her archery skills. She wants to polish your _sword_."

Link just stared and blinked. "She what?"

Pipit gave a loud sigh. "She wants to go with you. She wants to be with you—to be your thirty-percent. Get what I mean?"

Link looked around. "So you're not coming then?"

Pipit crossed his arms. "I'm _not _coming so that you _can_." He nodded. "Hopefully I don't have to explain it any more than that."

Link didn't know what to say. "Well…what're you gonna do instead?"

"Stay here, what else? Find a job to do. Should be easy for a strapping young lad such as myself. You go and have a jolly old time in the woods, compliments of Pipit. See you in a couple days." He gave Link a wave as he walked away. "And if you come back a virgin, there's something wrong with you."

"You can't stay here alone," Link said. "Look what just happened with the general. You're gonna end up in trouble!"

"I'll be fine," Pipit called.

"Hold on," Link said, pursuing him.

"Just go," Pipit said. "You need advice or something?"

Link stopped. "Advice?"

"Yeah. You don't have to have sex with her to make her scream your name into the trees."

Link looked back to make sure Midna wasn't standing there. "That's not why I'm over here," he murmured.

"All you need is three fingers to do it," Pipit said, demonstrating a come-hither motion. "Maybe even two."

Link's fingers fluttered. "Huh?"

From several yards away, Midna watched them talk. The topic must have been interesting because Link seemed enthralled. She heard nothing from either of them until Link called, "Girls can do that too?" Then Pipit laughed, slapped Link on the back and walked away.

Link pondered for a few minutes before returning to Midna, who was staring into the trees again. When he stepped up to her, her concentration broke.

"He's not coming?" Midna asked.

Link cleared his throat. Her eyes looked beautiful. "No. He's got some stuff he wants to do here."

"That's a shame," Midna said. Link couldn't tell if she was being honest or facetious. "Well, you can't go alone. Do you want me to come with you?"

Link took a breath, glad that he didn't have to do the asking. "If you want…"

"Great," she said cheerfully. "If you're ready, I'm ready."

Trudging through the people, Link couldn't believe that he was about to enter the woods not with Pipit like he had planned, but with Midna.

Stealing a glance, Link saw her hair again. He couldn't help but wonder why it looked so different. He almost asked her, but refrained. The idea of brushing it rose up. Perhaps she had a brush in one of her bags.

"Fi, which way are we going?" Link asked.

"You must head northwest from the Sealed Temple, Master," Fi replied. "I will direct you the entire way."

"This will be fun," Midna said, turning a sparkling eye to Link.

He scratched his head. "Are you sure you're okay with going? It's the woods, and it's not…" He hesitated. "It's not hospitable, or comfortable in any way. There aren't any bathrooms like at home."

Midna giggled. "I know that, silly. I survived the first time I came here. I didn't even know if you were alive or not. Now, I get to go with you." She grinned confidently. "I'm looking forward to it."

Link nodded and chewed his tongue, wondering what he was getting himself into this time.

An overgrown path awaited them as they left the clearing behind to venture into the Faron Woods. As if a switch had been flipped, loud turned to soft, bright turned to dim, and wide-open turned to dense green.

This place was peaceful and smelled so sweetly. The air was refreshing—quite a change from what he'd been dealt at the Sealed Grounds.

Taking a cleansing breath, Link eyed Midna again. Looking her over a bit, he started to worry.

What if temptation got the better of him?

No, he would be fine. Cracking his knuckles, he stretched up taller and looked boldly ahead. Besides, he could always ask Fi to leave the sword shard and sit with him if he needed it.

After patting his bag, he dropped his gazed to his violin case. Something would have to be done about that problem too.

The gentle sounds of insects and birds made him realize that the demon's voice had been absent from his thoughts since leaving Skyloft. This small detail made him uneasy, if not suspicious.

He sensed that if it were not for Fi and Midna, he still would not be alone right now. The demon was here. Link could feel him as if he were standing nearby, ready to embrace him.

Link felt as if his mind was missing something; as though it were open and ready to receive a message that simply wasn't transmitting.

Link looked through rows and rows of trees, past the canopy and into the pieces of sky which he was able to see. Something was going to happen soon.

….

_Note: Skylark is an OC owned by Vulaan Kulaas._

_If you aren't sure what Pipit's sex talk is referring to, you may be too young to know :p But if you're really curious, let me know and I'll explain it…somehow. Thanks for reading!_


	34. The Call of the Past

Chapter 34

The Call of the Past

A cloud of dust swirled in scattered light as Link sat down. Finally. His feet hurt and he was famished.

Staring into the fire he'd built, he lowered his gear. The night sounds of the forest were just beginning to reach him. He removed both gauntlets and placed a hand on his chest. He winced. The pain was coming back.

An unpleasant sensation had made a home in his chest. It had appeared during the morning flight to the surface. It didn't seem to be getting any better. In fact, it seemed to be getting worse.

He shut his eyes. What was the right word to describe this pain? Biting? Gnawing? Perhaps stabbing. All he knew was that he was tired of hiding it.

With a sigh he lowered both hands. Against his will his eyes found Midna sitting on the opposite side of the fire. Guilt crept up, making his face hot. For the amount of time he'd studied this girl today he could have drawn a full-body portrait of her, complete with the exact way that her belt hugged her waist and the outsides of her eyes curved dramatically upward.

Relentless scraping could be heard as she used flint to sharpen one of her arrowheads. She seemed fixated.

As the pink in Link's ears subsided, he watched her. He wasn't sure what to think about her, or the way this trip was going so far. He had expected her to be—he wasn't sure—more talkative, perhaps. Not chatty, as she wasn't the type to talk idly. But more willing to converse.

Midna's words always had purpose. And because their conversation over the past nine hours hadn't gone past, 'Wow, that hill we climbed was almost vertical', and, 'Fi must think we're mountain goats', Link could only assume that Midna simply had nothing worthwhile to say. Either that or she was just distracted. Judging by her tendency to gaze into the distance every chance she got, he figured that some outside source was to blame. Somehow the idea gave him little comfort.

Midna's irises looked as red as the crackling flames as she concentrated, her lips parted.

Breathing in, Link opened his mouth to speak, but waited. Rolling aside the pesky need to know why her hair looked so different today, he reviewed the day's events in his head—

Walking through the woods; climbing rock faces; dirt; greenery; the scent of vegetation, both live and dead; humidity; the feel of Midna's hand as he assisted her over obstacles; avoiding a harsh sun, swatting mosquitos and stepping in bokoblin feces coupled with a lack of complaints from Midna; the unnoticeable buzz of the forest and a silence that could only be heard in the most remote of locations—the sort of silence that accompanied solitary travelers.

Concealing his grin with a hand, Link tapped his cheek, watching her touch the sharpened stone to her tongue. Did all archers do that?

The way she looked at Link suggested she'd seen the smile in his eyes. "Something funny?"

Link dropped his hand. Saying nothing, he shrugged.

"Your tongue is tougher than you think," Midna said, sliding the arrow into the quiver at her feet.

"Oh?" Link asked. If Midna wanted to talk about tongues, he was all ears.

"Yeah. Ever notice how the inside of your mouth can withstand heat better than, say, your lips?"

Not a bad conversation. Besides that, it was the most he'd heard her say since they'd left the Sealed Grounds. "Um, I guess."

"If pricking my tongue with the tip _really_ hurts then I know it's sharp enough."

"Is your tongue really that strong?" Link asked. He immediately wondered why he'd allowed himself to ask.

Midna grinned. "What do you think?"

"Um…" To say yes would imply something dirty. To say no might offend her. To say, 'I don't know' would just make him look like an idiot. "…Maybe?"

Midna giggled. "Well, considering you've been in my mouth before, what's your assessment?"

Link's throat tightened. She had to say it. "It seems fine to me."

Midna rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward. "Would you like to assess it again?"

How was this going downhill so fast? "Again?" Link asked.

Midna stood, walked around the fire and sat an inch from him. He tilted away. "Yes, again," she said. He looked at her with uncertainty. "No point in shillyshallying. I know you do. I do too."

"I figured," Link said, turning to the fire.

"You know what they say: honesty is worth more than all the gold rupees in the world," Midna said. Link nodded. "We're in the woods, there's not another person for miles and miles…" Link looked into her eyes. "The perfect opportunity, right?"

Link rubbed the back of his neck. "Only if I wanted to take the opportunity," he said. Midna grinned some more. "I can tell you're not entirely okay with it, either."

"At least I know I'm talking to the same old Link," Midna said. "If you'd said yes and jumped on me I would've been a little worried." They grinned at each other. "Extremely turned on, but a little bit worried." They shared a soft laugh. Link finally started to relax.

"So what was Pipit talking to you about before you asked me to come with you?" Midna asked.

Just like that, Link was nervous again. "He just said he wanted to stay. And help out at the Grounds."

"Is that all?" Midna asked.

"Why?"

"Because you seemed surprised about something."

"Surprised?"

"Yes," Midna said. "'Girls can do that too?'"

_She heard that?_ "Oh, well, he was giving me…advice."

"I could tell," Midna said, giggling.

Link's eyes crept around. "Do you know what he was talking about?"

"Judging by his hand movements and animated demonstration, yes."

Link clicked his teeth together a few times. "Is it true?"

Midna's grin returned in the most curious way. "Well, like I said at the spring, you show me yours, and I'll show you mine." Her thin eyebrow bounced slightly. "When the time is right, of course."

Link's mind blanked for a moment. "Yeah…"

They both stared at the fire. Silence was starting to take over again. As uncomfortable as the discussion had become, it was the last thing Link wanted.

There was so much that he wanted to say to Midna; so much that he didn't know where to begin. Honesty was worth more than all the money in the world, all right, but that didn't mean that honesty didn't have its rightful place.

Link took a breath. Certain subjects were wearing him down. To get them off of his chest would be such a relief. Perhaps it was time for a little honesty right now. After they ate something.

Link knew Midna wasn't going to ask for what he had in his bag. They had already delved into the issue during their short lunch—Henya had given Link enough food for two days, as she had done for Pipit. No one had planned on Midna coming, nor had they thought to have her take what Henya had given Pipit. Now, after a long, physically demanding hike, two people were stuck dividing what was meant for one person. Midna was reluctant to take what he had earlier, and she would be no different now.

Link reached into his largest bag. "Here," he said, holding out a bundle of food wrapped in parchment.

"No, thanks," she answered.

"Mid," Link said with a tight jaw, "please take it."

"I'm not hungry."

He turned to her with a look of irritated disbelief. "You're lying."

"No," she said. "I'm actually not hungry—for what you're trying to force on me."

"I'm not forcing anything on you," Link said, dropping the package in his lap. "We've been walking all day. We're both hungry. _Both_ of us. So take it."

"A little pushy, are we?" Midna asked.

"No… I just want you to eat first. Then I'll have what you don't want."

"And what if I'm not in the mood for Henya's dried fowl and pumpkin gingerbread?"

Link gave her a tired glance. "Don't forget the nuts and raisins."

"Oh, I didn't," Midna said.

"So are you gonna take it?"

"No," Midna said.

"Why not?"

"Like I told you earlier, this is your food. I can fend for myself."

Link scoffed through his nose. "And how are you gonna do that?"

"I've got my arrows. I can go hunting."

"Hunting? Are you kidding?"

"What do you think?" Midna asked, smiling again.

Looking away, Link grunted in frustration. "Are you always this hard to deal with?"

"No," Midna said, running a finger under her hat. Link watched. "I'm normally much harder."

Link ran his hands through his hair until Midna's grin became impossible to avoid. It was frisky. He soon realized that she wasn't being serious. "Mid?"

"Yeah?"

"What sort of a knight would I be if you didn't eat before me?" Midna shrugged. "We've been hiking all day, you're not going hunting, so what do I need to do to get you to eat this?"

"I'm only eating it if we share it," Midna said. "You take a bite, then I'll take a bite."

"I want you to eat first."

"That's my final offer," Midna said, looking into the fire.

With his eyes on her, Link undid the parchment, picked up a piece of meat and popped it in his mouth.

"That's a small bite," Midna said.

"It's still a bite."

"Hm," Midna said as she tore a piece of bread. As they both stared at each other and chewed, Link took the smallest raisin his fingers could find.

"You think I don't know what you're doing?" Midna asked. Link simply smiled and placed the food in her hands. She shook her head and continued eating.

"You're tough to figure out," Link said, holding himself back from eating any more. Midna's expression turned inquisitive. "Maybe it's because you're secretive." Her chewing slowed. "You've been listless. What's bothering you?"

"It's good to know that pots still call kettles black," Midna said.

"What do you mean?"

"I've been wondering the same about you. You're in pain, am I right?"

Link looked at his hands. "A little."

"What is it?" Midna asked, trying some of the fowl.

"My chest," Link said quietly.

"Do you know what it is?" He shook his head. "Don't tell me you're gonna have a heart attack in the woods. As much as I like the idea of trying my CPR skills on you, I'm afraid you're too heavy for me to carry back."

"Very funny," Link said. "I'll be fine. What I want to know is what's in these trees that interests you so much."

"Maybe I'm thinking of becoming a lumberjack," Midna answered.

"I'm serious, Mid. What's on your mind?"

Making short work of the rest of the bread, Midna looked at him coyly. "What's on my mind?"

"Yeah," Link said with a nod.

Midna scooted closer. "Do you really wanna know what's on my mind?"

"Uh…" Link tugged on his collar. "Yes."

"Good," Midna said pertly. "Because what I'm thinking is that I'm really thirsty." She looked down. "Do you mind if I have some of your water?"

Link smiled. "No, go ahead." To his surprise, Midna's hand promptly found its way into his bag. He held his breath as he felt her searching, brushing against his back and hip. Their eyes remained on one another.

"This bag sure is bigger than it looks," she noted. "How do you fit so much stuff in here?"

Link let out his breath. "Must be magic."

"Is that so?" She poked around a bit, taking her time. "There's a sword shard—no, three sword shards." Her petite nose wrinkled with subtle enjoyment. "Your sailcloth, flint, bag of rupees, the boomerang you said you'd show me but never did." She gave a little scowl. "Not one, but two glass bottles."

"Take whatever you want," Link said, attempting to keep a straight face.

"Oh, you can count on it," Midna said. Her face slowly turned serious. "What's this?"

Link leaned back. "What's what?"

"This," Midna replied, withdrawing her hand and holding up a small object.

With tapered eyes, Link inspected the item. Small, thin and square, it was wrapped tightly in parchment.

Plucking it from her palm, Link eyed it closely. With budding curiosity, he peeled the paper back one fold at a time.

Slowly, the square shape of the wrapping gave way to a circular object. It was pale in color and had a prominent rim. Touching a wary pinky to it, Link noticed its greasiness.

Taking the slick article between his thumb and index finger, he proceeded to study it in the last of the sunlight. He heard Midna laugh. After taking a moment to give her a suspicious look, he continued his search.

Then it dawned on him. This flat object was larger than it appeared. It was rolled up. Upon closer inspection he deduced what it was made of—treated linen.

It all came together: a round, flat item made of chemical-soaked, greasy linen which was meant to be unrolled. It hit Link in the stomach that he was looking at what was known as a protective sheath—a condom.

Not just any condom, but one from his own bag, that Midna had just found.

With arm still up, Link turned his now flabbergasted face to her. She was smiling like Pipit had after he'd rewritten and memorized the full ten-page Knight's Code in pig Latin.

Link felt an incredible heat spread across his face. Midna had figured out the condom mystery before he had, meaning he looked like a dunce. It didn't help that as his face got warmer, her grin got larger.

"What were _you_ planning on doing in these woods?" she asked. Link swallowed. "Better yet, _who_ were you planning on doing?"

"Nothing—no one in particular," Link stammered. Clearing his throat, he concealed the condom in his lap. "You don't think I brought this…?"

"Planning on seducing me out in the rough country?"

With his jawline twitching in aggravation, Link dropped his eyes and huffed. "Pipit…" he murmured.

"He's just trying to help in his own way," Midna said with a softer tone. Link took a fleeting look at her. "I saw him slip it in your bag."

"He needs to mind his own business," Link whispered to himself.

"Maybe you need to loosen up," Midna said, resting her head in her hand.

"Loosen up?" Link asked. "What if I was somewhere important or in the middle of a fight and go to take something out of my bag and pull out a condom instead?"

"I think you're overreacting," Midna said, toying with the tip of her knight's cap.

"Just wait 'til it happens," Link said, looking up.

"I will," Midna said. "I'm also waiting for you to stop being angry with Pipit for no reason." She answered Link's incredulity with a firm nod. "He may get on your nerves, but anyone would be grateful to have as good of a friend as him." Link looked down and said nothing. Midna tilted her head to coax his eyes up. "He would do anything for you. He would die for you. Do you realize that?"

Trapped by her words for a few moments, Link didn't move. Finally freeing his gaze, he nodded.

"Well at least we agree on that," Midna said.

"I think if you had a friend like him for this many years you'd be annoyed a lot too," Link added.

"I think if I had a friend like him for that many years, I'd be thanking Hylia—daily."

"Sure."

"I mean it. I've never had a really close friend like that."

"Consider yourself lucky," Link said, pulling his water out and handing it to her. He reclaimed the food in exchange. Taking a long sip, Midna shook her head. "Sometimes being friends with Pipit is like banging your funny bone over and over again." Link took a generous bite from the scraps that were left. "On purpose."

"Shame on you," Midna said.

Link just sighed and finished the crumbs. He looked glumly down.

"What?" Midna asked.

"I'm still hungry," Link said.

"You should have eaten more before I did," Midna said.

"I wanted you to eat what you wanted."

"I don't think I realized how much I ate," Midna said. "I haven't been this famished in a long time. We've been walking and climbing all day."

"As long as you're full, I'm happy," Link said.

"Actually, I'm still hungry too." Midna half-shrugged.

"You're kidding," Link said. "We're out of food."

"Why do you think I was trying not to eat it?" Midna asked with a head-bob.

Link's condom-filled hand lifted and dropped in exasperation. "Fi?"

"Yes, Master?" Fi answered.

"What time is it?"

"It is eight minutes after seven o'clock, Master."

"Well, we've got some time before the sun totally sets," Link said to Midna. "Fi, how much ground did we cover today?"

"Twenty-point-one miles, Master."

"And what time did we leave today?"

"Two minutes after ten o'clock this morning."

Link pondered for several seconds. "That's almost two-and-a-quarter miles-per-hour." He nodded approvingly. "Not bad considering all those inclines."

"You did well, Master. You are now ten-point-four miles away from your destination."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Link said. "Are there any easy food sources nearby?"

"There is a patch of strawberries fifty yards west," Fi replied.

Link and Midna looked at each other. He could tell that she was thinking the same thing. "What're strawberries?"

"Woodland strawberry is an herbaceous, everbearing plant that grows in sunny areas throughout the Faron Woods. It is low-growing with a fibrous root system and a crown from which arise basil leaves. The leaves are compound, with three leaflets. Its binomial name is _Fragaria vesca_—"

"Okay, Fi, thanks," Link said, stuffing the condom in his bag. "I guess all we need to know is if they're safe to eat."

"And if they taste good," Midna said.

"At this point I don't care," Link said.

"Strawberries are safe for humans to eat," Fi added.

"Of course they would be," Midna said. "Don't you trust your guide, Link?"

"Just thought I'd make sure," Link mumbled. "So west is…that way?" He pointed to his left.

"Yes, Master."

"What are we waiting for, then?" Midna asked, grinning over her shoulder. "It's only going to get darker. We better hurry up. The woods can get pretty wild at night."

As Link felt Midna's fingers slip inside of his, he quickly nodded.

Without a moment to spare the two walked a short distance, trudging through trees and bushes and leaving the warmth and security of the fire behind.

Hooting and chirping harmonized with the crunching of leaves as they walked. The air was thick and the scent of life was abundant. This place was more alive than any Link had visited in a while.

Taking the lead in a spot where they had to walk single-file, Link looked up, expecting a squirrel to ambush his head. He turned to see Midna's smile. In the receding sunlight, it seemed almost as eager as his.

Lo and behold, about fifty yards away a small grove opened up before them. As Midna stepped beside Link, they gaped.

"Wow," Link said, admiring the sprawling bushes. They were haphazard but surprisingly inviting. His fidgety fingers reminded him that Midna's hand was still very much in his. Or maybe it was the other way around. "This is it, right, Fi? We didn't stumble across 'the meadow of poisonous berries' by accident, right?"

"It has to be," Midna said. "Look how beautiful it is." She started to walk ahead.

"This is it, Master," Fi said.

"Come on, brave knight," Midna called from several paces away. She carefully lowered herself in the grass beside a particularly berry-laden bush.

As a whole, the sight was quite appetizing. Link joined her without hesitation. He was instantly surrounded by the intense aroma of strawberries and the perfume of its small white flowers. Link looked at Midna. She smelled like that already.

"Look at all this fruit," she said.

"Yeah."

"Too bad all we're gonna do is sit and look at it."

"Why?"

Midna scrunched her shoulders and grinned. "Apparently there's a rule that I have to eat first. But what if I don't want to?"

Link turned his attention to a rather large, bright red strawberry hanging in front of his face. His dry throat made it look even more delicious. "I never said—"

"Who is in their third year of knighthood? And who is only in his first?" Midna claimed a wry smile from him. "If anyone gets to make the rules around here, it's me."

"Is that so?" Link asked.

"It is," Midna said. "_You_ eat first."

"So if I don't eat first then nobody gets to have any?"

"Right."

"Unless I can get you to have one first," Link said.

"Good luck," Midna said with a confident laugh.

"Or maybe one of us will just cave."

"Maybe," Midna said.

"Aren't you curious what it tastes like?" Link asked.

Midna tapped a finger on her knee. "Sure."

"Seems like you would want to be the first to try it," Link said. Midna pursed her lips. "I would assume."

"Yeah?" she asked.

Link nodded. "I think you're afraid."

Midna's mouth dropped open. "Afraid?"

"Yup." Link carefully picked the largest berry within arm's reach. For a moment they both studied it.

Midna leaned in. "I think you're the one who's afraid." Link lifted his eyes. "You're supposed to be the Goddess's chosen one, right? Where's your courage, Mister Hero?"

Link sat up a little taller. "Nice try."

"I mean it."

"Mm-hm."

"If Pipit were here, he'd do it."

Link sat up a bit more. "That's because he doesn't care about anyone or anything else half the time!" He glanced to the side, caught unawares by how much his voice echoed through the trees. "I just wanted to make sure you ate enough before. That's all."

"Well, I appreciate your concern," Midna said, still smirking. "But I don't appreciate being made to do something."

"Even if it's for your own good?" Link asked, observing the glint in her eye.

"For my own good?"

"Yes, your own good."

Giving him a sidelong look, Midna reached up and picked her own strawberry. "You sure look thirsty," she said, dangling the fruit by its stem. "I wonder if this is as juicy as it looks." Crushing the berry, she sent dark red juice squirting in every direction.

Jumping back, Link ogled the rich stream as it dripped from her fingers. He wasn't expecting that any more than he was expecting his mouth to start watering.

He looked at the front of his tunic. "You almost got that all over me," he said. "And you."

"Oh. Sorry." Dropping the squished fruit, Midna stared him dead in the eye and brought her finger to her mouth. Link froze as she licked it clean. He bit his tongue when she moved on to her thumb. When she groaned approvingly, he thought his heart might stop.

"What's it like?" he asked.

"One of the best things I've ever tasted," Midna answered.

"No way," Link said.

"Want to try it?" Midna offered him her ring finger. "This one's still covered in juice."

Tempted by the idea, Link pulled back. "Hey, doesn't that count as eating it?"

"No. It's just a little juice."

"Oh, I see," Link said. "So that means I can have some."

"Of course," Midna said, grabbing another berry. "Here." She held it up. "Open."

Link gawked at her. "Huh?"

"I'm gonna help you," she said. "Open."

Link looked at the plump berry and then at her. "I don't trust you."

"I'm shocked," she said in a tone that Link couldn't pinpoint. "_Open_."

Link sighed. The fruit did look delicious. And all that juice that had just gushed out… "Don't squirt it up my nose." He cautiously opened his mouth.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Midna said, waiting. "Now hold still."

Link stuck his tongue out. Midna giggled. "Come on," he tried to say.

Biting her lip, she gingerly squeezed the soft flesh. As soon as a few sweet drops hit Link's tongue, she dropped the fruit in his mouth. He quickly spit it out as Midna partook of a hearty chuckle.

"Hey!" Link cried, wiping his mouth and looking unmistakably amused. He laughed with her. "I've never not wanted to stop myself from eating something so much before. That was cruel."

"What'd you just say?" Midna asked, wiping her eyes and laughing harder.

"I said it's your turn," Link said, grabbing a small berry from its stem and lunging for her. With a little shriek she fell back, burying her mouth under her hands. He followed, catching one of her legs between his own.

Armed and ready, he stopped in place . His determination withered. Midna's hat had fallen off, leaving her head bare.

Instead of thick, loose hair, two taut braids trailed down either side of her head. "Mid, your hair."

She slowly lowered her hands. "What about it?"

"It's different," Link said. "It's pretty like that."

"What happened to stuffing that strawberry down my throat?"

Link shook his head. "I'd rather feel your hair."

"You what?" Midna asked.

"No, I mean…" Link started to say. "I noticed your hair looked different, and I enjoyed combing it last night…"

"I enjoyed it too," Midna said, her grin lessening.

Link found that his words were trying to stick to the roof of his mouth. "If you let me brush your hair I won't make you eat this."

"How gentlemanly of you," Midna said. "Why the fascination with my hair? It's just braided."

"I just like it," Link said, dropping the berry and going for the first braid.

He felt her movements cease as he tugged on the thin ribbon securing the braid at the nape of her neck. Moonlight glistened along her earring as her hair was freed. Feeling the sharp rise and fall of her chest, he looked into her eyes. She rolled her head further to the side.

She looked pleased, but Link wasn't sure. "Sorry you're lying in the dirt," he said.

Midna slowly blinked. "It's fine," she breathed.

That was most definitely the sigh of a happy woman, but still. "Here," Link said, pulling her up by her arm. Kneeling beside her, he pulled pieces of grass from her half-undone hair.

She giggled quietly. "Silly thing. I was enjoying that position." She looked the other way. "Would you be so kind as to take the other one out?"

Link searched for any indication that she was displeased, but found none. "My pleasure," he said, undoing her second braid. When she made a little sound, he grinned.

Tugging as carefully as he could, Link unwove the last of the shiny strands. The soft waves that were left behind were a nice look for her.

"You don't need to stop, you know," Midna said. "I have a brush back with all of our stuff." She gave her head a little shake, sending her curls bouncing.

"You do?" Link asked, happy to have finally been asked.

"And it has your name on it," Midna said.

With his goal in sight and his interest in food rapidly diminishing, he moved from bush to bush, gathering as many berries as the bottom of his tunic could hold. He looked across the way and saw Midna doing the same. She glanced up from her collecting and gave him a look that made him wonder what she was thinking about. She wasn't smiling, she wasn't frowning, but she seemed… He couldn't be certain. But she seemed to be asking him to come near, so after his makeshift bag was filled to capacity, he complied.

"I'd never lose you in a crowd with that hair," Link said, riveted by its luster.

Midna didn't say anything. Instead she turned away, directed a sultry smile toward him, and headed for the camp. With a spring in his step, he followed.

By the light of the fire the pair laid out their fruit, building a pile on the empty parchment on the ground. Kneeling together, their gazes joined.

Midna's expression told Link that she knew what he wanted. Holding the strawberries to keep them from falling in the dirt, he watched her open the bag that had sat happily on her hip all day. When she came at him with the hairbrush, he almost forgot about the berries.

"I'm sure you'd like to do the honors," Midna said, leaning against the fallen tree.

Leaving the fruit safely at her feet, Link happily took his place behind her. Sitting above her, he claimed the brush and promptly ran the soft bristles straight down the back of her head.

In an instant Link saw Midna's tension leave her. Her shoulders dropped and her rigid posture loosened. Her back pressed against his legs until she nudged her way between his knees. Happy to be in the same position as last night, Link scooped her hair in his hand, laid the brush on top and pulled down.

"That feels amazing," Midna whispered.

Link was glad she couldn't see his silly grin. "Why does this feel so good for you?"

"It just does. It gives me goose bumps." Folding her sleeve up, she showed him her forearm.

"So it does," Link said, making sure to keep up the good work.

For several minutes he took enjoyment from the feel of her body and the sound of her pleasured sighs. He smiled, grateful to be of service to her. Admiring his work, he rubbed one of the glistening waves between his fingers. The way she shifted between his legs practically made him jump.

"Don't stop doing that," Midna said, tilting her head and exhaling.

_Wouldn't dream of it…_ With considerable fervency Link buried his fingers in her hair and combed through it. He wished he could see her face. He leaned to the side, hoping to steal a glance. In the flickering orange light he recognized her expression. It echoed back the time they had shared in the garden the night they met, when a passion he had never expected or even fathomed had risen up inside of him. Next he saw himself in his dorm room, prepared to go to the surface to search for his best friend; even then he was seized by the same fiery hunger.

The memories made Link's face red once more. As his movements continued, he decided that honesty's rightful place was here and now. "I'm sorry about what happened at the party," he said.

Midna turned slightly. "With Pipit?"

"No. You and I. Outside."

Midna turned back to the fire. "Why are you apologizing?"

Link cleared his throat. "Because it wasn't honorable."

"We were drunk. And besides, it takes two to make something like that happen."

"I…guess," Link said.

The two sat in silence for a time. Midna's hair got smoother and smoother.

"But we weren't drunk the second time, so…" she said with a shrug.

"Yeah, I know."

The silence was heavier this time, as was Midna's breathing.

"I thought of a new rule," she said.

"What's that?"

"Neither of us can eat these strawberries unless they're being fed."

Link had to chuckle at that. "Fed?"

"Yes." Midna eased away from the brush and turned her grin toward him. "I'll go first." She picked out a bite-sized berry.

"Why don't I go first?"

"Because _you_ are hungrier than I am," Midna said softly, rising to her knees.

Link didn't move. "Okay."

"Open," Midna said, eying his mouth.

Blinking, Link diligently watched her hand, finding it a challenge to pry his lips apart.

"Don't trust me?" she asked.

"Of course I do," he answered, proving her wrong.

"What a good boy," she said, her own mouth opening in concentration. Link's eyes left her hand and planted themselves on her face. When the rough texture of the fruit touched his tongue, he closed his mouth.

After rolling it around for a few seconds, he caught it between his teeth and bit down. The explosion of juice and flavor floored him, and it showed all over his face.

"Good?" Midna asked, pleased.

Chewing, Link nodded. "Wow."

"My turn," Midna said, handing him a berry of comparable size. Separating the fruit from the green stem, he held it up. He suddenly felt awkward about putting something in her mouth. As soon as she closed her eyes and opened up, however, he swept his cares aside. He delicately returned the favor, abruptly swallowing what was in his own mouth when his fingers brushed her lips. Smiling, Midna took her first substantial taste.

"Good, right?" Link asked.

"Very," Midna said. "Want another?"

"Sure." This time, hesitancy was nowhere to be found as Link ate another berry. Relishing the sensation of food in his stomach, he sighed.

"I'm ready when you are," Midna said.

Link blindly grabbed a berry from the pile. As soon as he saw it he paused. "This one's pretty big."

"Trying to say my mouth can't handle big things?" Midna asked.

"Oh…no," Link replied.

"I'll just eat it in two bites, silly," Midna said.

"It might be messy."

"That's okay." Midna inched forward.

"All right," Link said, giving her the fruit. As expected, her first bite resulted in red juice dripping down. "Told you." Midna just grinned. Tapping the fingers of his free hand, Link realized that he'd never wanted to lick someone's chin so much before. He inserted the remainder of the berry in her mouth.

Wiping her face, Midna selected an even larger berry.

"I'm gonna get juice all over me," Link said.

"We'll see," Midna said, offering the fruit. Link found it amusing how enthusiastic she was. Not wanting to disappoint, he allowed her to feed him. With most of the berry filling his mouth he bit down, gasping as juice trickled to the ground. Midna put the fruit down.

Before Link's hand made it up to regulate the embarrassing mess, Midna took hold of it. He stopped attempting to chew his mouthful and stared.

"Let me help," she said, coming forward. Link froze as her face came to his. When he felt her lick his chin, he shivered. It felt so warm.

_It's like she read my mind,_ he thought. He sat still, unsure of what to do. He swallowed everything in his mouth in one huge gulp.

When she was satisfied, Midna pulled back. "Much better."

Link took a deep breath. "Thanks…"

She got back up on her knees, holding the half-eaten berry between them. "Here." She bit off a piece, drawing Link's eyes to her juice-covered lips. "Now it's not so big." Leaving almost no space between them, she placed the remainder of the fruit in his slightly gaping mouth. They each watched the other intently.

"So whose turn is it?" he asked.

"Not sure. We can go together." She claimed the biggest strawberry in the stack.

Link's eyes widened. "Whoa."

"It's a bit daunting but we can help each other, right?" Sinking her teeth into the berry, she brought it to his mouth.

With eyes broadening further, Link looked at the monstrous berry.

"Mm!" Midna enticed, rocking her head.

Slowly, Link took the fruit in his mouth, allowing her to take a bite and leave the fruit behind. Link's eyebrow came up as he observed, his mouth chockfull. It was a relief when she bit into it again to hold it. Quickly biting, chewing and swallowing, he repeated what he'd done the first time. Midna smiled, obviously enjoying herself.

When the fruit was in her mouth again, Link noticed that it was getting harder to find a proper place to bite. When his mouth was empty, he selected his spot carefully. As Midna drew back with her mouth full, he finally admitted to himself how much he was delighting in the game.

In the process of retrieving the remnant of strawberry, Midna's lips touched his.

With another bite gone, he knew there was no point in hanging on to what was left. But he couldn't bring himself to eat it, as delicious as it was.

Soon, the two were sharing an expectant look. He waited, trying to stop salivating.

At last, Midna saved him, leaning forward and salvaging the meager bit of fruit, but not without sending more juice cascading. With both of their chins wet and sticky, Link wondered if she'd done it on purpose.

But His attention quickly turned to how their mouths were still together. He felt her grin against his own before her tongue came out again. He shut his eyes, absorbed in the feeling of what was happening.

Their noses pressed together and their breath mixed. As soon as Midna ceased what she was doing Link did the same for her, insisting in his head that it was only polite. He laid his eyes on the fire blazing behind her.

When a little groan left her, he pulled away. Her face said, 'You're not going to do a better job than me'. Her mouth covered his again, making him gasp. Thinking she might want to freshen up the inside of his mouth, he opened up. Her tongue slipped in. Her dark-rimmed eyelids came up in surprise.

Unsure if he'd gone too far but even more unsure as to whether he cared or not, Link took her bottom lip in his mouth. A startled exhale tickled his face.

With a laugh Midna pushed him back by his chest and tore forward for something that distinctly resembled a kiss. It stopped him in his tracks.

Not wanting to be outdone, he shoved back, leaving his seat to join her on the ground. She fell back on her hands, but instantly bounced back and nibbled on his lip.

With his heartbeat beginning to pick up speed, he let her do what she wanted.

Soon, hands were coming up, heads were cradled and shoulders were gripped as the battle for lip dominance continued. When Link buried himself in Midna's mouth, she groaned.

They melted to the forest floor, breathing heavily and locked ardently at the mouth. She tugged on the green wool around his torso. He sank his fingers into her silky hair, squeezing and stroking it. When she invited him between her legs, he quickly acted on it.

Midna's hands made their way from Link's neck to his chest to his back, and finally to the bottom of his tunic. When she lifted it up, his entire world slowed down. He thought about saying, 'Wait', but she didn't grab him. Instead she wrapped an arm around his lower back.

The urge to simply liquesce against her was becoming overwhelming. The pressure that he had come to know a bit too well in relation to her was building. His lungs were tightening along with his pants.

Her body was so warm and soft. It begged to be caressed, but he kept his hands at shoulder-level.

The kiss deepened. He held her hair, focusing as hard as he could on the feeling of being in her mouth again. Before today it had been a while. When he looked at her, she seemed to be doing the same.

Midna slowly broke their connection and curled her fingers around the back of his neck. He felt a pull, knowing what she was planning. While he was deciding if he should let her, she went ahead and did it anyway, sucking his sensitive earlobe into her mouth, leaving him gaping.

As his chest fell to hers there was no hiding his excitement. Panting and squirming on top of her, it took all of his strength not to moan straight into her ear. When her hand slid down to his hips to persuade them to move, he couldn't curb it.

Unable to hold back his growing need, he thrust against her, rapidly becoming annoyed by the chafing of his clothes. Letting go of his ear, Midna rejoined him for another kiss, arching her back and moaning in response.

The sounds were starting to drive him crazy. He laced his fingers into Midna's and slammed her hands to the ground. She cried out, sending his pounding heart aloft. Determined to catch her evasive tongue, he leaned all of his weight onto her hands and pursued. She clutched him between her knees.

Then, a rustling sound flew at them from the trees. Link immediately bolted up and Midna's head shot to the side. Neither said anything.

Listening raptly, he heard the characteristic skittering and chittering of bokoblins. How many there were, he couldn't tell. It took two seconds for him to leap up, reach for the scabbard by his violin case and draw his sword.

With chest heaving he gripped the hilt in both hands, scanning the dark woods.

Midna readied her bow and nocked an arrow. "I can't tell how far they are," she said.

"I can't either," Link said.

They waited. Just as the crunching and scuttling seemed to recede, it would get louder. Angry at himself, Link stared crossly.

The wait carried on.

Clamor gradually became a hint of sound. Soon it disappeared as if carried away on a breeze. Lowering his sword, Link sighed, looking up at the stars and shaking his head.

Midna lowered her weapon. "I guess they're gone."

Link squatted beside his scabbard and sheathed his sword. He stayed there.

Midna crept up. "What's the matter?"

"I could've gotten us killed," Link murmured.

"What?" Midna asked. "You?" Link sat on the tree and looked at his hands. "Because of what just happened? You're not the only one who—"

"I'm sorry," Link said. "After I just apologized for the first two times it happened too." He rubbed his forehead.

Midna sat next to him. "Don't be ridiculous. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want that to happen. It isn't your fault."

"We're in the woods. This place is dangerous." Link reached for his case. "Maybe we should both know better." He unzipped it.

Midna looked at the shiny instrument inside. "I guess I was enraptured by your charm," she said.

Link opened a small compartment underneath the violin. He removed two rolled-up blankets. "Guess I can say the same." He handed one to Midna.

With tapering eyes, she took it. "Mm." She watched him take his sword and lay his blanket next to the fire. He settled down. Midna circled around to the other side of the fire and did the same, making sure her bow was close-by. "Guess we should sleep. It's been quite a day." She curled up on the blanket.

"Yeah," Link said, getting comfortable. He looked at her, feeling bad.

"I'm wide awake," she said. "But exhausted."

"Me too."

"You probably don't want to go to sleep until I do," Midna said. Link grinned. "Hm. Good luck with that."

Taking a breath, Link let his eyes close. "Let me know when you're asleep so I can go to sleep."

Midna laughed. "Uh-huh."

The heat was making him incredibly cozy, but Link forced his eyes open anyway.

"Let's see who dozes off first," Midna challenged.

"You're on," Link said, yawning. His eyes shut again.

"Mm-hm," Midna said.

After three minutes of stillness, Midna supposed Link was sound asleep. "Link?" He didn't move. "Link?" She chuckled to herself. "Typical man, falling asleep so fast." She placed her head on her arm. Smiling, she watched him sleep for a while.

….

The soothing sounds of the forest worked their magic, luring her tired eyes closed. Her mind was still racing, however. She knew it would be a while before she finally succumbed to sleep.

"Sky child?"

Midna's eyes opened.

"Sky child?"

Her head came up. Was her imagination playing tricks on her?

"Sky child…"

She hastily sat up. "Link?" she whispered. "Link?" She went to shake him.

"Sky child?"

She fell back on her heels. The voice was louder now. She looked behind her. "Link?" she called.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the voice said. Midna put a hand over her heart and held her breath. "I meant sky demoness."

She gasped. Her eyes dropped. She suddenly knew who was speaking.

"Come," the voice urged. She looked at Link. "Leave him."

Pondering for a moment, she looked around. She took her quiver in one hand and her bow in the other.

"Bring it if you prefer, but it won't do any good."

Midna's breathing picked up, matching her heartbeat. She stood up.

"Come," the voice said, its suave tone permeating the darkness. "We have much to discuss."

Turning her gaze several times from the trees to her sleeping companion, she buckled her quiver across her chest, brought her bow to her side and stepped away from the fire.

"Good girl."

Into the depths Midna walked, mindful of twigs and leaves so as not to disturb Link. The wind started whistling through the branches. It forced a shiver from her.

"This way, sky demoness. This way."


	35. A Faith Worth Having

_A/N: Special thanks to *hairyhen* for writing the last 246 words of this chapter (beginning with 'Determined')._

_Warning: Lemony scene herein._

Chapter 35

A Faith Worth Having

"If drunken revelry was conducive to winning wars, then this _army_ would be one hell of a force to be reckoned with."

He wasn't quite sure who had made that comment, but it made him laugh nonetheless.

With more fires than he was able to count blazing on every side, Pipit swept his female friend into his arms. He smiled, pulling her close. She squealed with excitement. Taking cover behind one of the many tents in the camp, the two fell against one of the sides, bending its pole. Planting a firm kiss on the blonde's neck, he started to wonder if anyone was inside the tent. When the girl grabbed his face and forced his mouth to hers, he promptly forgot his concern.

As soon as Pipit's mouth opened she was in it. He tilted his head and moaned along with her, amazed that someone he'd known for a mere ten minutes could make him so happy. He took hold of her blue soldier's uniform and yanked her by the waist, drawing her against him. The slight young woman wrapped a leg around his calf and grasped his shoulders. With a surprised grunt and a stagger, he realized that she was much stronger than she looked.

The starlight was radiant enough to break through the cloud cover, yet good sense wasn't able to even penetrate the spirit of intoxication that was abundant throughout the camp.

Fully embracing what so many other knights and soldiers were tonight, Pipit grabbed the girl's other leg and lifted her. He grinned as he felt her clamp her thighs around him. With zeal he deepened their already breathtaking kiss, pushing the girl's head against the tent's heavy linen.

Panting, the young woman broke her lips free. "Do you have a place to stay tonight?" she asked, blinking slowly and staring at Pipit's mouth.

"Not that I know of," he said quickly before chasing her lips down. The way she tightened around him and yelped stoked his desire.

Squirming in his arms, the girl pulled away to speak. "Come back to my tent with me," she breathed.

The next two minutes were a blur of stumbling and giggling as the two weaved through tents, doing their best to avoid crashing into whatever and whoever was in their path.

"This way," the girl said, laughing so hard she could barely speak.

"Wait…huh?" Pipit asked, in his own blissful little world.

It took several seconds but the girl found one of his hands and took it. "It's the…tenth tent in the fourth row." Together they squinted into the distance.

"You sure?" Pipit asked. "They all look the same. We won't end up in the wrong tent, will we?"

The girl pulled him into a steady walk. "If we walk in on people doing what we're about to do, then we'll know."

With no shortage of tactlessness, Pipit checked out her shapely rear end. "Let's hope not, 'cause I wanna rip this uniform off you as fast as humanly possible."

"I could say the same about you," the girl said, licking her lips and eying his belt.

Laughing about something unrelated, Pipit picked up the pace. "I'd say, 'I'll beat you there', but I have no idea where I'm going."

"The fourth tent in the tenth row."

Pipit's expression turned inquisitive. "You said the tenth tent."

The girl shook her head. "What? I said the fourth."

"No, I mean…" Pipit pointed ahead. "The first time you said the tenth tent."

"I said the fourth."

"The second time you did. The first time you said the tenth."

The young lady scratched her forehead. "What?"

"First time was the tenth, second time was the fourth." The girl gaped at him. "The first time you said it, it was the tenth tenth… I mean tenth _tent_."

"No, the third time it was the tenth."

Now Pipit was the one gaping. "What?"

"The first time it was the third, and the second time it was the tenth."

"I don't remember anything about a third," Pipit said, pinching the bridge of his nose and thinking hard.

"That's because I said it the fourth time," the girl said.

"Wait…" Pipit stumbled over a pile of abandoned tent poles and barely missed a rather large fire. After recovering, he took the girl's hand and dragged her along. "I'm pretty sure that the first time you said the tenth, the second time you _meant_ the tenth, and the third and fourth times don't exist."

"Yes, they do," she said. "The third time I said the fourth tent, just like the fourth time."

"The fourth row," Pipit said. "You said fourth row and tenth tent." He paused. "Or was it tenth row and fourth tent?"

The girl giggled. "Actually, I think it might be the sixteenth tent in the second row."

Pipit abruptly stopped and held his arm out to prevent the two of them from colliding. The girl bounced off. He quickly turned and grabbed her shoulders, looking down into her green eyes.

"Just shut up," he said before pushing her down and back. In an instant they had disappeared through the flaps of the tent that happened to be next to them. What row it was in was a mystery.

Utilizing his limited cognizance, Pipit noted that the dark tent was empty, other than an uncomfortable-looking makeshift mattress on the right-hand side. With busy mouths and groping hands the two took a graceless fall onto the disorderly pile of blankets.

Only partially aware of his actions, Pipit tried not to be too rough, knowing full well that gentleness had a way of fleeing from him when he was drunk. He had no idea who this girl was beneath him, but that was no reason to act to like a caveman.

Still, he couldn't seem to tame his hands. As soon as he was sure that his touches were gentle he would squeeze something too hard or lean too much of his weight on her. Worst of all, he was too tipsy to judge whether or not she was enjoying it. He was certain that she was displeased when she gave a mighty shove and sent him rolling onto his back. That finding was negated, however, when she straddled him and grabbed his belt.

"Are you ready for this?" she asked with a heavy breath.

Pipit stared at her hands. "What're you gonna do?"

Undoing the buckle, the girl leaned down and whispered, "I'm going to ride you into next week."

Pipit watched her straighten up. He swallowed and nodded. "Carry on, then."

In a flurry they lost their uniforms, tossing each article across the tent as it was loosed. Feeling like he ought to be doing something other than sitting back and allowing a lady to have her way with him, he reminded himself that occasional passivity had its perks.

He quickly found himself being bounced wildly under her forcefulness. "Oh, my goddesses!" he cried.

"Ssshhh," she urged. "What's the matter?"

"You're acting like this is the last chance you'll ever get to do this!" he said, grasping her hips and trying to stop her. "I thought _I_ was foreplay challenged!"

The girl laced her fingers into his and pushed his hands to the bed. "Don't you like this?"

Pipit gaped at the top of the tent for several seconds. "Well, yeah, but…" He shut his eyes and breathed. "Can't you slow down?"

"What for?" the girl asked. "Look at your face. You're loving this."

"Certain parts of me are loving this." He tried to keep his eyes open to look at her. "But this is gonna be over before you—"

"Nonsense," the girl said, going even faster.

Unable to appreciate the spectacle of beauty on top of him the way he normally would, Pipit squeezed his eyes shut. "No, I mean it. My control is…impaired…at this time."

She leaned forward again. Pipit flinched as a few red strands tickled his cheek. "I guess _I_ better hurry up then."

Pipit shook his head. "Why do women always get things backwards? Slow down!"

"Backwards?" the girl asked with a devious grin. "Am I backwards in thinking that this is driving you crazy?" Her next few thrusts made his head roll back.

"Good lords, woman," he said, breathless. All he got in return was a pleased laugh.

"_Pipit…"_

His eyes popped open. "Did you just say my name?"

"Little early for that, isn't it?" the girl asked, her head down in concentration.

"No, I…" Pipit stared upward. "I swear I just heard it."

"There's a lot of people wandering about. Maybe someone's looking for you."

"Who in the world would be looking for me right now?"

"_Pipit…?"_

He froze. "There it is again! It's like it's in my head!"

"If you're as drunk as I am then I'm not surprised that you're hearing things," the girl said, her movement as steady as ever.

Pipit grumbled. "I'm not hearing things."

The girl touched two fingers to his lips. "You told me to shut up, and now I'm telling you to do the same."

"Mm, don't get your hopes up," Pipit mumbled under the weight of her fingertips. He turned his eyes to the meager opening in the tent. In a daze, he watched it closely. Every now and then a shadow would pass by.

"That's probably Link," he muttered. "That creeper. He's such a freak but won't admit it." He laughed.

"Link?" the girl asked. "You mean the chosen one? The one who's destined to lead this army to victory?"

"The one and only," Pipit said. "I dunno about leading armies, though. Or victory."

"You know him?"

"If you wanna have a conversation, you really oughta slow down," Pipit said, biting his lip. "You're making it hard for me to concentrate."

"Are you friends?"

Pipit took a few breaths. "Best friends, actually," he said with a little break in his voice.

"Put in a good word for me, will you?" the young lady asked, coming forward and sweeping her lips across Pipit's a few times.

"Uh…I, I—" he stuttered, trying to keep cool.

"Someone's going to have to lead the companies." She caressed the corner of Pipit's mouth with her tongue. "Only those handpicked, am I right?"

"Oh, uh…" Pipit's eyes closed. "What's your name?"

"_It's Lilith…"_

He looked into the blonde's focused face. "Lilith? Now where have I heard that before?"

The girl's smooth motion came to a stop. "Lilith? Who's Lilith?"

"Uh… You, isn't it?" Pipit placed his hands on her hips, not wanting her to stop. "Didn't you just say that was your name?"

"Um, _no_," the girl snapped.

Pipit looked at her strangely. "I coulda sworn—"

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" The girl sank her fingers into his hair and ran her eyes hungrily from his forehead to his mouth.

"I believe you did," Pipit said, anticipating her kiss. "So what is your name?"

"Jordan," she said, giving his lips what they'd been waiting for.

Everything slowed down. Locked onto her, Pipit sighed, awed by how wonderfully intimate the moment felt. "That's pretty," he whispered.

"Thank you. Now shut up!"

Jordan's next several thrusts were so vigorous that they were painful. Pipit grabbed her again. "Whoa, slow down."

She tossed his hands away. "No."

Pipit gawked at her. "I said slow down! Better yet, stop!"

Jordan tilted her head insolently. "And what if I don't?"

Pipit looked around. "Huh?" He winced at the sharp feel of his face being claimed in her hand. It was a familiar feeling.

"I said, what if I don't?"

Pleasant sensations down below were an odd contrast to the dread that was growing in Pipit's mind. Something in the young woman's eyes was kindling his unease. "You have to."

"No, I don't," Jordan said.

Pipit couldn't pinpoint it, but something wasn't right. For several moments he stared into the girl's face and ignored the building tension in order to figure out what it was.

Dizzy, Pipit kept losing his focus. He closed his eyes and tried to shake the lightheadedness, but the constant jostling left him woozy.

"You do love this," the girl said. "Listen to you. You're gonna attract the attention of everyone, humans and animals alike, with all that moaning."

"I didn't realize I was…" Pipit tried to rub his forehead but missed.

"Keep going. I like it."

He blinked. "No. I'd rather you stop."

"You're out of your mind."

"Look, normally I like a good dominatrix, but…" Pipit shook his head. "I—"

"Then _shut up_."

The loving stroke of her finger down his face seized his ability to speak for a time. He shifted beneath her, sensing that the end was imminent.

His eyes seared themselves to hers. Something burned within her irises.

Pipit gasped and writhed, feeling an inexplicable panic on the rise. Jordan reacted by whispering softly into his ear, but it did little to distract from the way that she was pleasing him; if that was indeed what she was doing. He wasn't sure.

"You remind me of someone," Pipit said.

"Who?" Jordan asked. "This Lilith chick who's haunting you?"

"No…"

Jordan chuckled. Pipit didn't like the sound of it. "Who, then?" She curled forward and nibbled his earlobe.

Pipit choked on his words. Sputtering, he did the only thing he could do—look at the roof of the tent.

A finger pressed to his cheek and lured his attention. Figuring he ought to resign himself from the situation and allow her to finish him off, he opened his eyes. What he saw was shocking.

Before him wasn't a beautiful girl's face, but his old instructor's—chiseled chin, defined cheekbones, greying hair and all.

Pipit felt his blood freeze in his veins as hazel-speckled brown eyes bore down on him. A familiar grin made all pleasurable sensation vanish.

"Come for a lesson, Master Pipit?" the man asked in all of his virile gentility. Pipit's eyes couldn't be any larger. "And what would you like to learn today, son?"

"Get off!" Pipit hollered, using every bit of strength to hurl the intruder back. Finally free, he wrapped a blanket around himself and shot to his feet. "Who are you, anyway?" he yelled, nearly falling.

Pipit's glare smoldered with hatred until he realized that the one curling up at his feet was not a burly man of six-foot-six, but a petite, unclad young woman. In silence he watched her sit up, cradling her head.

"Are you insane?" she asked, her voice raspy with anger.

Pipit's eyes darted back-and-forth. "I thought you were—"

"Let me guess: Lydia? Lily? Lisa? Or whatever other make-believe woman you seem to think is beckoning you right now?"

Pipit scratched his head. "I wish. It was way worse than that."

Jordan hissed through her teeth. "You've got problems!"

Pipit threw his blanket into her arms and started collecting his clothes. "I think you may be right."

"I hit my head on the ground," Jordan mumbled.

"Sorry," Pipit said, scrabbling through the darkness.

"I dunno where you get off being so rough."

"Wow. You're really one to talk." Pipit rolled his eyes and jumped into his shorts.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Pipit pulled on his pants and chain mail. "It means I'm not the only one with problems." He slid his tunic over his head and pulled on his knight's cap.

"You've got some nerve," Jordan growled, watching Pipit step into his boots.

"Yeah, well…" Pipit looked her in the face. "Hopefully neither of us will remember any of this tomorrow." He gave a little grin and waved a few fingers. "'Night, now."

Jordan's jaw dropped. "I think you're gonna regret this," she muttered. "And I hope you get confused and tighten that belt around your neck instead."

Pipit burst out of the tent. "Fare thee well to you too, beyotch." He stood up straight, hooked his belt and took a deep breath. He looked around, only half-noticing those around him. He heard several knights and soldiers address him.

"People really need to quit calling my name," he said, shutting out the voices. He walked along a path between tents, trying not to trip over his own feet. "Maybe I really _am_ going crazy."

"I believe you may actually have succeeded in speaking some words of wisdom."

Pipit jerked to a stop, marginally keeping his balance.

"For once." General Sheik's gratified smile complemented his words.

Pipit looked the small uniformed man up and down. "What do you want?"

"Correction," the general said, his grin lessening. "What is it you would like, _sir_?" Pipit simply stared. Sheik smiled again. "A vague question. There are a lot of things that I want. How could I possibly begin to answer?"

"Why are you here right now?" Pipit asked, determined to keep his heavy eyelids steady in the dim, smoky light. "Why are you stopping me?"

"How did it feel to say something intelligent a moment ago?" the general asked. "Would you like to prolong that feeling by partaking in some more wisdom?" He cocked his head. "Perhaps right now?"

Pipit shifted his feet. "What do you mean?"

"Secrets can really eat you up inside, can't they?" Sheik shrugged a shoulder. "Destructive things." Pipit looked away in thought. "Isn't it funny how we keep secrets to shield ourselves—and perhaps others—but all we're really doing is inflicting harm?"

"So?" Pipit asked.

"_So_, secrets can really make a doozy of a mess. For one thing, they're rather adept at overturning relationships; they're also quite good at keeping help at bay; not to mention how they impose upon the secret-keeper mental and psychological damage."

"What the hell are you getting at?" Pipit asked.

"Feeling a little, I dunno, _crazy_ tonight?" Sheik brought his hands behind his back and smirked.

Pipit's brow came up. "What—"

"It's not surprising considering what sort of stuff you've got locked away."

"How do you know—"

"Call it intuition," Sheik said, looking down.

"So what're you telling me this for? You trying to help me?"

"You could say that," Sheik said.

"Well, if you're talking about Link—and who else would you be talking about? You're obsessed with him, aren't you?" The general just snickered. "He's already very much aware of my secrets. He knows about my…childhood…" He took a moment to scrutinize Sheik's expression. "And he knows that I like the girl that's basically belonged to him his whole life. Okay? Done. Goodbye, then."

"Wait," Sheik said. "You stretch the truth now just as much as you left it unfinished with your buddy." He shook his head. "He doesn't know the truth, does he? Not by a longshot." Pipit didn't move. "He doesn't know half of what went on between you and that teacher of yours. And you and this little maiden—our dear Zelda…" Sheik's happiness blossomed. "There is something that happened between the two of you that he doesn't know about."

Pipit stepped back.

Sheik came forward. "And it's not just Link that I speak of. Someone else in your life deserves to know the truth. Because you just never know…" He paused. "…When time might run out to tell them." He inched closer and looked directly at his listener. "No matter what the secret is, or how many years it's been kept, it will always come back to bite you." The two studied one another. "And lucky for you, admitting the truth is never as catastrophic as is perceived in our…limited minds."

Pipit looked at his empty hands for a few seconds. "Okay, so what do you suggest I do?"

"Well, you can keep standing guard over this fragile thing known as your pride just as you always have, as well as continue to entertain voices in your head. Or, when the time is right, you can do yourself a huge favor and heed my advice."

"You haven't told me what this advice is," Pipit said, glancing around.

"Well, like I said, when the time is right."

Pipit's hands came up. "Well, I must say, you've been so very helpful. Thank you so much for utterly annihilating three minutes of my life." He offered an indignant solute.

"How unfortunate that we can't all have nothing better to do than saunter around camp, drunk and blissfully unaware of the danger all around us."

Pipit turned around. "Kind of like how we can't all be three feet tall and annoying as hell. But that's the unfairness of life, right?"

"I wouldn't sell yourself short on being annoying as hell," Sheik called after him. "Ask your friend what he really thinks about you."

"Hmm."

"You're more of a target than you think," the general said. Pipit turned an ear. "In a unique position relative to the Goddess's chosen one? Chosen, himself, by the Goddess Incarnate to fulfill a direly vital role?" Pipit's boots scraped the dirt as he stopped. "If you ever start to wonder why every last bit of hellfire seems to be landing right in your lap, just remember." The general chuckled. "Just remember."

"You trying to scare me?" Pipit asked over his shoulder, his ears beginning to heat up.

"Oh, but it's not _my_ job to scare you."

Pipit nodded and started walking.

"Now I have a question for you," the general said. "What would you say is the price of being Link's best friend?"

Pipit slammed his feet to the ground and sighed. "Probably what the price is to be anyone's best friend. Friendship can be costly."

"Mm. Maybe you're not such a moron." Sheik thumbed his chin. "But this friendship isn't like any other, is it? So what do you suppose is the price?"

Aggravated, Pipit turned around. "I don't know. If you're so damn wise, you tell me!"

Sheik crossed his arms. "A very high price." He tapped his foot. Pipit gaped. "The highest price that anyone could possibly pay."

Giving Sheik one last look, Pipit pivoted and strode onward before he had to listen to any more. "Thank you, your idiocy, for your valuable insight. Now I know I'm crazy—for subjecting myself to that much B.S."

After a few minutes of walking, a young couple in the throes of a heated make-out session came up on his right. "That was supposed to be me," he told them. They gave him a curious look. "I sure picked a bad one tonight."

Complaining under his breath, Pipit trod on until the fires were no more. No fires meant no people, which was exactly what he wanted.

Searching for a place to rest, he poked his head into tent after tent. Every one of them provided nothing more than a bare dirt floor. "Somebody needs to furnish these damn things."

Just as he was about to give up and go back, he came upon a suitable tent. On the outskirts of camp, it had a thick mat, blankets, and best of all the sort of seclusion that he was looking for.

He quickly made himself at home by kicking off his shoes and diving beneath the blankets. "I hope Link is getting more action tonight than I am."

He'd barely gotten his hat off when his eyes latched themselves shut. "Maybe tonight's a sign that I don't belong here. Maybe I should just go home." He sighed, feeling himself beginning to drift off. "Or maybe I should just quit talking to myself…"

Cozy and warm, he listened to the sounds of the night, counting the owl hoots and cricket twitters to lull himself to sleep. "Hylia…" He laid the side of his head on the back of his hand and yawned. "You're the mastermind behind this charade known as life, right?" He blinked his eyes open. "I haven't prayed in forever." He paused. "What do you think I should do?"

Nothing but the sound of insects buzzed in his ears. He laughed. "Oh, that's right. Only Link is so fortunate as to have the Goddess speak directly to him. My bad." He rolled onto his side. "Why seek an answer that I'm not gonna find?"

"_Pipit…"_

Startled, he sat up and gawked into the darkness. "Okay! I take it back! Forgive my blasphemous ways! Please don't strike me down with lightning!"

"_Pipit, it's Lilith,"_ the voice called, clearer than before.

Pipit's face scrunched in confusion. "What? How…?"

"_Don't you remember me?"_

"Gimme a second." He gritted his teeth and put forth his most honest effort. "Lilith… Hot black-haired demon chick." Proud of himself, he smiled. "I'm just bad with names. I could never forget you."

"_I need you to do something."_

"Hang on… How are you talking to me right now? Are you here?"

"_No."_

"Then what is this? Is this another one of my episodes?"

"_Telepathy isn't something reserved only for full-blooded demons."_

"Oh… Um, so what's going on?"

"_I need your help."_

"Why? What's wrong?"

"_I've been captured."_

Pipit threw his blankets off. "Captured?"

"_Yes. Enemy soldiers ambushed my camp in the middle of the night. Only a few of my men escaped. Far too many are dead, and those who are still alive are being tortured for information and executed. My father is seeing to it personally."_

Pipit's head pounded. He rubbed it. "Your father? So you're safe?"

"_Now that my father knows the truth he considers me to be nothing more than a traitor to the king, and to him. I fear I'll soon suffer the same fate as my men."_

Pipit looked himself over. "Well…what do I do?" He climbed to his feet. "Just tell me where to go and I'll go."

"_You know where to go."_ The voice seemed to be fading. _"Go back to the gateway between our realms. The one I showed you. Someone will be there to provide you with what you need."_

In a mad rush, Pipit tumbled out of the tent. Kneeling, he grabbed his head and whimpered. "I'm dizzy. How am I supposed to help you when I feel like such crap?"

"_I think you'll find the air in the demon realm to be quite sobering."_

"I hope you're right." He stood up. Against their will, his feet started moving. "How am I supposed to find this place in the dark?"

"_Your sense of direction is better than you think. Have faith in yourself."_

"Way easier said than done. Do you know who you're talking to?" He laughed at the irony of his own question.

"_Please hurry."_

Pipit sighed. "I'll try." Rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes, he turned to view the faint glow of the camp as it diminished in the trees. "Not only listening to the voices in my head, but following them. Last time I did this, it didn't turn out so great." He let his head fall back to look at the cloud cover. "I really hope this doesn't involve some tall pale guy with a fetish for Skyloftians."

…..

The only sound in her ears was her own labored breathing.

Sick of her weapon hindering her in the fight against mosquitos, Midna slung it over her shoulder, hopped over a large rock and skipped through a mass of tree roots. Almost catching her foot under one of them, she came to a tottering stop.

She lifted a hand to wipe her forehead. She sighed, feeling weighed down by the thick forest air.

She looked around, finding little more than trees, trees and more trees, lit softly by the moon.

Feeling damp all over, she brushed away the hair that was sticking to her face. She tugged on the sleeves of her tunic and cursed the heavy wool, despite the hungry bugs that would love nothing more than to nibble on unprotected skin; not that they were her biggest annoyance right now.

Her eyes narrowed as anger crept in. No one was here. There was supposed to be someone here, but _no one was here_.

She began to consider that her initial suspicion had been spot on. Perhaps she had come here for nothing. It was entirely possible that her semi-sleeping mind had played a trick on her—created the voice of the demon lord on its own. Stranger things had been known to happen.

On the other hand, it might not have been her imagination at all. Maybe the demon really was to blame for her being out here; for being eaten alive in the heart of the forest, far from her camp. She wasn't sure how far she'd meandered in the dark following the remnants of the voice that had summoned her, but it must have been at least a mile.

Many minutes of trudging separated her from her companion—the only other knight for miles. With their combined strength they were reasonably safe. Apart, they were vulnerable, as much as she disliked it. Perhaps Link more so than her, considering how trusting he was. The way that he slept with his sword by his side and not in his hand could attest to that. It was imprudent if you asked her.

Taking a ragged breath, she sat down on a rock and rested her chin in her hand. A picture of Link sleeping peacefully came to her.

A smile appeared but quickly faded. The image stayed, bringing with it an unsettling and rather incensing prospect—

Her, deep in the woods, far away from Link who was asleep, unsuspecting and unarmed. Even with his sword by his side, in a deep sleep he was as good as dead if attacked, especially without a second pair of ears to listen for suspicious activity. And he didn't know that he was alone.

Then again, Link wasn't alone. He still had his spirit guide. Midna nodded to herself, confident that he could take care of himself. Maybe.

Besides that, she had bigger problems to deal with at the moment, assuming the demon's voice had been real and that she was the one he was interested in. What had he led her out here for?

If it wasn't her he was after then it was Link. It had to be one of them. Midna knew that, one way or another, the answers were coming.

Trying not to move, she scanned her surroundings. Normally, identifying the presence of another was a cinch. A body's life essence would make itself known to her right away as long as it was close by.

But the forest was strange. Life was so abundant here that a person, even one large and powerful, could probably stand right behind her and pass unnoticed.

She glanced over her shoulder. As she supposed, nothing was there, unless a small lizard climbing a tree counted as something. When she studied it closely to confirm that it was indeed what it appeared to be, she knew she was being paranoid.

Rolling her eyes at herself and her irritating situation, she looked to her left. Not a thing. Already knowing that nothing of consequence was there, she looked to her right.

Nothing, of course. Shaking her head, she peered through the canopy at the sky. What a waste of time.

Not only that, but Link's safety was at stake. These woods were perilous anyway, and now that she had wandered off…

Through with this muggy pit, Midna stood up, adjusted the straps over her shoulder and set her sights on where she'd come from.

What was going to be waiting for her back at camp? She furrowed her brow and flipped her hair out of her way, determined to get there as soon as possible.

Another question nagged her: why had she felt the need to do as this voice had said? Was it because she knew whose voice it was? Maybe she was looking to protect someone? Herself, Link, or both? Perhaps she was just curious, like a child seeking out the source of the disturbing noise in the attic. She made a wry face, not surprised by any of the possibilities.

As soon as her feet started moving they stopped. A chill ran down her back and the hair on her arms stood up.

Someone was definitely here.

She almost grabbed her bow and arrow but refrained. She knew that she was being watched, but she also knew that to ready her weapon was to show hostility.

She glanced at her feet for a moment and took a breath. Closing her eyes, she tried to hone in on where the life energy was originating from. Sensing something directly in front of her, she opened her eyes with a gasp but saw nothing.

Her heart raced as she turned slowly, perusing every inch of forest around her so as not to miss anything.

It was then that she spotted two large eyes above a low-lying tree branch.

Keeping still, she focused, finding that there was much more than just a pair of eyes. There was a face, complete with a shroud of fine white hair and a crooked grin. It rested in a gloved hand, propped up by a leg folded neatly beside another. One pristine boot dangled blithely.

"Well, if it isn't the one who gives the term insubordination its charm," the familiar voice said.

Considering the odd comment, Midna stared. She then turned to face her observer in a proper manner, straightened her posture, lowered her chin and circled her arms behind her back as if to say, 'Whenever you're ready'.

Perched like a bird of prey, the demon waited, swinging his foot some more. Midna kept an eye on it, looking away only to see if his eerie expression had changed any. The smile remained, of course.

Both of his feet met the forest floor with almost no sound. Midna clasped her hands behind her and stayed put.

The red around the demon's shoulders settled as he mimicked her stance. Her mouth opened to share an acidic remark, but discretion held it back.

As if he had expected something different, the demon chuckled and gave a knowing look. Appearing reasonably amused, he moseyed over to Midna, stopping only two feet from her and offering a lofty stare from several inches above.

"Human, demon, goddess or otherwise," Ghirahim said, his voice a smooth addition to the forest's hum, "it simply does not matter." He studied her closely, his eyes seeming pleased. "Women are impossible to understand."

Midna waited quietly.

"Do you know why you're out here?" he asked, receiving no response. "Hm. Well, you will momentarily." He lifted onto his toes for a moment. "Why are women impossible to understand, you ask? An excellent question from a notable young mind." He bit his lip as his gaze landed shamelessly on her chest. "For one, they act in such contradictory ways. How confusing they are. How misleading." The sway of his head revealed the diamond beneath his eye, giving Midna something else to glower at. "Perhaps you can explain something to me: how is it that a woman can worry so much about the welfare of a man who truly is nothing more to her than a pawn?"

Midna's expression hardened. Ghirahim smiled broadly. "A pawn, he says," the demon mocked. "Yes, a pawn, indeed. To you he is simply a game piece. A means to an end. Something to be exploited for your own benefit." He paused. "Isn't that right?"

A wall of cold indifference met the demon head-on. She watched him bend slightly at the waist, obviously tickled. Her lip curled.

"Easy, girl," the demon soothed. His grin made Midna suspect that he was not only enjoying her resentment, but basking in it. "Hear me out before you write me off." He lifted his hands in subtle supplication.

Chewing her tongue, Midna dropped her eyes. Her thumbs twiddled. Thinking, she gazed at the demon's hip, caught by the glint of his red jewel. Her lips parted as she started to wonder, her skin feeling prickly at the sight. She quickly looked the demon in the eye again.

Ghirahim nodded. "Look familiar?" he asked. "Do you know what I had to endure to earn this back?" Her eyes shifted to the side. "I could show you but I don't think you would survive." The demon stayed silent until she looked at him again. "That little display that showed off your abilities in the temple…" He shrugged. "…Is never going to happen again. I think you know quite well that your skill is at a novice's level. It's not strong enough to accomplish anything, and its potency comes and goes. You might have experienced a surge of it that day, but it was a fluke. Why?" He smiled again. "Because you have absolutely no control whatsoever over this power of yours. Hm, what a shame."

Ghirahim moved closer. "Would you like to hear a story?" Midna took a small step back but kept her eyes firmly planted on him. "I think it's story time. Might I suggest you take a seat somewhere comfortable? Underneath one of these trees, perhaps?" He held an arm out. "On a rock? In my lap?" Her sneer was quickly followed by his chuckle. "Come now. What sort of a demon lord would I be to have a woman standing before me for such an inordinate amount of time?" He crossed his arms. "Normally if I summon a woman, she isn't standing for long." Midna eyed his finger as it neared her face. "Especially one so beautiful." Just as it grazed her cheek she recoiled.

The demon laughed. "So feisty, you are. No wonder the hero enjoys playing with you. Want to find out why he likes me so much?" Midna blinked her sizzling eyes a few times. "Not interested in this sort of discussion? Are you ready for that story now?"

Midna failed to notice how tightly her fists were clenched until her fingernails started cutting her palms. She let out her breath, surprised that she hadn't said something remarkably scathing by now. Feeling a cold sweat trying to creep up, she tugged on her tunic.

Leisurely, the demon removed his wrap and stepped to the nearest tree. Leaning on it, his face softened. It did little to help Midna relax.

His smile was so pompous. The way he stroked his chin and examined her every feature made her want to send an arrow between his eyes.

But she knew who she was dealing with. And he evidently had something to say. She'd taken the time to come all the way out here, so why not let him talk?

Ghirahim laughed softly and looked at the ground. "There once was a beautiful young demon girl who lived—oh, but where else?—in the demon realm. The girl had everything one could ever ask for: a caring family, the very best education, the affections of every boy and the envy of every girl, more money than she could ever hope to spend, and a house on the shore of the magnificent Ocean of Chaos with the most perfect view of the Black Mountains from her very own bedroom window."

Midna felt herself grow warm. It was then that she understood. Ghirahim's smirk proved that he'd noticed.

"With striking red hair, this girl, more human than demon, was a rare find," he continued. "The fact that she came from an extremely affluent family didn't exactly help her to keep a low profile. Not that she minded." He twisted the red velvet in his hands. "This lucky little princess's parents owned the most renowned and prosperous horse-breeding business in the entire demon realm. Anyone who was anyone possessed one of these animals—the sleekest and fastest in existence. Where would the king's army be without the blood of these practically royal beasts flowing through its cavalry?"

Her pulse was pounding in her ears but Midna kept a straight face.

"Even more impressive, the girl held a special talent for archery, and at a very young age proved that she would one day be the best of the best. But the most amazing facet of her talent, which only some could recognize and even fewer could understand…" Ghirahim pulled his weight away from the tree. "…Was her potential to master the art of magic."

Having expected to hear this, Midna's fingers coiled behind her. Her hands started to tingle.

"So, powerful and influential from birth and with every possible opportunity at her fingertips, what could possibly go wrong?"

Midna rolled her eyes as the demon let his loaded question hang in the air. He laughed at the sky.

His gaze returned to her, sharp and deadly serious. "Plenty," he said, taking a small step. "Plenty can go wrong. Especially if the girl, at the tender age of thirteen, confides in someone whom she _thinks_ she can trust—her archery instructor—and tells her that she isn't all that interested in becoming a soldier of the king like everyone is hoping." Ghirahim nodded regretfully. "Yes, things can go very wrong. Because I don't think the army approved of the idea of their most sought-after warrior scampering off as soon as she was old enough. What do you think?"

Still fidgeting, Midna rocked her head from one side to the other and waited.

"All right. So what happens when disappointing information such as this gets loose?" Ghirahim slid closer. "Well, here's one potential outcome. This may sound familiar."

He bent forward with a look of concern. "Did you want to use this?" He offered his cape. "You look a little…chilled."

Glaring past him for a moment, Midna shook her head.

The demon giggled. "Very well." He draped it across his shoulders. "What becomes of a wildly productive hive of bees whose flowers are taken? No more honey, right? And what happens to those innocent little larvae?"

Midna lifted her eyes as the demon moved closer. "One very sad day, a mysterious illness struck the horse population on the farm. How devastating. How…unfortunate." He shook his head. "Within a month, every last one of these valued animals was gone, leaving the demoness's family with nothing. How heartbroken they were to have lost everything. So shattered and hopeless were they that they considered leaving the demon realm altogether." His eyes searched hers. "But the risk of being hunted down like the traitors they knew they would become was too great. After all, they had their precious heiress-to-nothing to protect."

Midna bit her tongue again, determined not to mention how close she was to kicking him in the groin and walking away.

"But where fortune has smiled down once, it will likely do so again. How lucky this family was to receive the aid of none other than the army itself, having its now worthless business bought at a more than generous price, restoring at least some of their dignity." His teeth showed themselves as he grinned. "But it was not only useless land and empty buildings that were purchased."

The demon held out his hands. "It was the girl," he said softly. Midna looked down. "They bought the rights to the girl; to direct her where they wanted her to go; to train her however they wanted her to be trained; to place her in whatever position they wished for her to be in; to preserve and develop her skills for themselves; to decide what man she would marry and have children with…" His eye glimmered. "A young man from the most prominent family in the military. A talented fighter in his own right. But most importantly, not fully demon, and therefore able to impregnate, for lack of a better word." He winked. "Over and over and over again, or so everyone hoped."

Midna grimaced.

Ghirahim leaned in. "But the little demoness eventually caught wind of this. And the idea of being controlled didn't sit well with her. So, biding her time—and to make a rather long and unpleasant story short—she did her research, made her calculations and planned her escape. And escape she did to the surface and eventually the sky, like so many other traitors." Ghirahim gave her a shameful look. "Leaving behind _every one_ of her obligations, both legal and moral. Poor little princess. She let so many people down. In fact, every one of her family members now suffers eternal torment because of her selfishness. She bears a heavy burden. It makes you wonder how she even sleeps at night."

Ghirahim moved close enough for her to smell him. It wasn't a disagreeable smell. He simply smelled of a place she hadn't seen in a very long time. "And now we circle back to how women are impossible to understand. Strangely, you seem to care about the hero's safety, yet you only care about yourself. Oh, but wait…" He took a quick look at her legs. "Let's not forget that if he is well he can free you from what's kept you bound for ten years. A marriage to another man would break this obligation that's been haunting you. That's why you planted the idea of marriage in the hero's head shortly after meeting him. But if marriage is all you need, then why not simply marry anyone?"

Midna stared at the ground.

"Well, the marriage needs to survive, for one thing. At least for a while. If it doesn't then you are legally bound once more. Unless of course you can eradicate those who pursue you. Oh, but wait. There's more."

Midna shrank back at his sensual tone.

"Even if _you_ are freed, your family isn't. And you need someone exceptional to rescue them. Someone who won't fail you. Someone who will complete the task in one go. Because you know that a failed rescue attempt is a final rescue attempt. And who better than the sky realm's best fighter to do the job? He's strong yet naïve enough to believe that you _won't_ dump him as soon as you get everything that you want."

The demon snickered as he ran a finger under Midna's hair. She flinched. "Well played, my little rose," he said quietly. "But the story doesn't end there."

Repulsed, she wanted to fly out of her skin, but kept still.

"You're in danger of being tracked down and taken back to the demon realm. You have been ever since you left, and that's not going to change. Wouldn't it be an enormous relief for this perpetual worry to disappear?" He laid a hand on her shoulder. "_I_ can make that happen." Trying to keep her eyes from flaring, she watched his hand. "Come with me. Not only will I exonerate you from your due punishment, but I will free your entire family." Midna looked into his eyes. "Not only that, but the hero will be protected from the truth about you. You can vanish without a trace. Much easier for him that way; and you can save face. Plus, I foresee a less hazardous life for him if you choose this path."

"And if I don't?" Midna asked.

"I will be sure to tell him everything. He'll despise you, you know. As he should. I also will not rest until his body, soul and mind belong to me." He squeezed down. "So, you can either choose to win, or to lose. Choose to save yourself and him, or seal your doom and hand him over to me."

Midna yanked her shoulder away. "I think you just want revenge against me for what happened in the temple. I think you're willing to say anything to get me and Link to believe your lies. You just want to manipulate us." The demon lifted a brow. "And you give yourself way too much credit. You aren't going to destroy him, or convince him to hate me. _I_ am going to tell him everything, and he will be fine."

Ghirahim folded his arms and smiled. "I have some competition, do I?"

"You've known that from the start." She listened to the demon's bothersome laugh some more.

"How ironic," he said. "You call me a manipulator, but aren't you really talking about yourself? I have conjured nothing. I've spoken the truth, as is confirmed by the way your pretty little face turned as red as your hair during that tale."

"Why don't you just kill us both?" Midna asked, her chest tightening. "Wouldn't it be easier for you to eliminate us rather than work around us?"

Ghirahim gave a fleeting look of thought. "I would, but you see, I'm not that impatient." He craned his neck gently to follow the deep curve from her waist to her hip. "And who am I to deny myself a bit of fun? Besides, there is much more in the works than you realize."

"I'm not going with you," Midna said.

"Even if it means his security?"

She bit her lip, knowing her aggression was showing. But she'd had her fill of being analyzed and dissected.

"Hm. Every woman needs to be shown her place; even you. The trouble with the hero is that he doesn't know how to do this. You need someone who does."

"Someone like you?" Midna asked, savoring the image of the demon bleeding and twisting on the ground with an arrow piercing his chest.

"Exactly. I can also help you reach your full potential. In every way. Not just with magic use and fighting skill. As I've said, would you like me to demonstrate why the hero desires me so much?"

"I'm leaving," Midna stated, moving back.

"He enjoys it immensely. I'm certain you would to." Ghirahim tapped his fingers together. "Who knows? You might gain something special; enhance your magical abilities. Have some faith. I've heard that my kiss holds a certain power."

With a look of pure hatred dying to be made known, Midna sidestepped past him and headed for the trees.

"You two sure are cute when you're smashed together and rolling in the dirt," the demon said with a snigger. Midna peeked behind her. "It must be frustrating that he can't seem to let go and tear into you like you want. You need a real man, my dear."

Scoffing, Midna turned back around and marched on.

"Why would a person want to free the family that sold her out, I wonder? One would think that she would feel too betrayed. Or at the very least would be battling a serious case of vindictiveness. Grudges will destroy you."

Midna did her best to ignore him.

"Your betrothed still pines for you," the demon called. Midna stopped again. "Don't think that he's forgotten what is rightfully his." Ghirahim turned and stared after her. "Better watch out. A fiancé scorned is an ugly thing." Thinking, Midna didn't move. "You are a wanted woman; sought after by many. It would be wise to invest in the help of one who has true authority."

Midna dragged her thumb underneath the leather over her shoulder. "I'm already doing that," she said loudly. She stepped into the brush, sighing as soon as she was out of sight of the demon. "Though not for the reasons you say."

Determined to put as much distance between them as possible, Midna strode away through the undergrowth. But after a few moments she paused and looked back over her shoulder as though expecting the demon to pop up again. She shivered in agitation and discomfort, unable to stop thinking about what he'd said.

She huffed, sheer obstinacy allowing her to clamp down on the pall of fear that had been threatening to overtake her. A contemptuous sneer crossed her face. If that jumped-up lunatic thought he could intimidate her into doing what he wanted, he was very much mistaken.

Still, it was impossible to deny that he'd rattled her far more than she was willing to admit. Though she'd tried so hard to outrun it, it seemed that the truth was catching up with her. If she wanted to make things right, she was going to have to play by his rules. At least for now. Later, when she'd had time to think her way out of this, things would be different …and then he would be sorry.

But right now she had to think of someone other than herself. Taking a deep breath, Midna started back towards camp, where even now Link was sleeping, still unaware of what he'd allowed himself to be dragged into. One way or another, things between them were going to change, and she could only hope that they wouldn't turn out as badly as the demon had proclaimed.


End file.
